


Crumble

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Eggsy as Gawain, Eggsy has a nipple piercing, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Harry as Galahad, Harry's not dead, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Angst, Minor Violence, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Scenery Porn, Which has fuck all to do with the plot btw, because of course, nowhere near canon level, the old 'shut them in the same house long enough and they'll realise it' trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission goes spectacularly wrong, Merlin sends Eggsy and Harry off to a safehouse while the backlash blows over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't even meant to start writing this until January, but apparently I have no self control. And yep, this is basically a trapped together in a small space trope fic but on a larger scale. Silly title will make sense later on.

When he realised just how much travel was involved with being a Kingsman agent, Eggsy was pretty fucking thrilled to be honest. For someone who'd barely ever left London apart from his training with the Marines and the trip to Valentine's cliché secret lair in the mountains, the thought of jetting off all over the world seemed too good to be true, just another item on a long list of impossible perks that came with the role of a Kingsman knight.

And it fucking was too good to be true. In his head, this latest mission that took him to a resort town in Spain consisted mainly of him swanning around in his fancy new clothes looking hot as fuck, taking out the mark as smooth as you like without even breaking a sweat, then back to the bar for a quick drink and a flirt with the locals before getting the plane home. Simples.  
But it wasn't like that at all. To start with, Harry was with him. That wasn't a bad thing, he loved hanging out with Harry in whatever form it came in, and he was keen to make up for the time they’d lost while the bastard was in a fucking medically induced coma while they put him back together after Kentucky. But it did feel a tiny bit like he was being babysat. And he was, technically, though Merlin had given him an earful when he'd phrased it as such. He was still freshly knighted, and despite the success of his unintentional first mission he was still green compared to most of the others who had decades of service under their belts. The upshot of this was that both he and Roxy, as well as any other new additions recruited in the past months to fill in the gaps left by V Day, were being monitored by the more seasoned agents, when they could be spared. 

Eggsy was hot, tired and dusty after following his mark across town all afternoon, and so far he'd done nothing more suspicious than pick up some dry cleaning. The Kingsman suits looked sharp as fuck, but they didn’t lend themselves to scurrying about in the Spanish sun all day. He was fucking melting. He’d have to have a serious talk with Merlin about making things both bulletproof and breathable when he got back. Keeping one eye on where his mark was filling up his car at a shabby looking garage, Eggsy let his mind wander to what he'd rather be doing at that moment. For starters he'd quite like to be on the beach. He'd never gone as a kid, and the view of golden sand and waves rolling up the shore from the hotel window that morning had made him more eager to go than ever. There'd be fancy, fruity drinks with the little umbrellas and ice in, ugh _ice,_ and girls in bikinis playing volleyball or something, because it was his imagination and why the fuck not. Maybe he'd ask Harry to suncream his back for him, just to see if he'd actually do it. If not, then one of the bikini girls could step up, he wasn't fussed. Though he couldn't really see Harry as much of a sunbather... he was more likely to sit under one of those big umbrellas and read or some shit. When Eggsy was done with his drink, he might chuck an ice cube at him, because he may be twenty six, but he wasn't above acting like a child, especially if it meant Harry would give him one of those funny little smiles, like he knew he should be annoyed but couldn’t quite manage it.  
All thoughts of his beach trip that would never be were pushed out of his head as the mark got back into his car and pulled away, Eggsy following a few cars behind in an attempt not to draw too much attention. This wasn't a holiday. It was work.

More or less everything was still in chaos, the world regrouping even months after V Day, and that included crime. While a lot of the small time crooks had made the best of the situation and looted and sold whatever they could get their hands on, the big leagues were another matter. A lot of them had taken big losses or were wiped out altogether, leaving the stage clear for any enterprising individuals to step up and take control. In this case, it wasn't an enterprising individual, so much as an entire family. Three generations to be precise, along with their numerous relatives and spouses all working together with their fingers in several rather lucrative pies. Drugs, sex, death, money, power. It was always something to do with one of the five, no matter what the mission, but this lot seemed to want it all. And with no real rivals, they had it. But they were starting to push their luck, their enterprises leaving a trail of bodies that was too much for the already stretched police force to deal with, which was why Kingsman had gotten involved. It was their mission to arrest if possible - kill if not - the heads of the family, in the hopes the less harmful would disperse, and either give it up or be thrown enough that they could also be neutralised. 

"Gawain," the smooth voice of his handler Gringolet came in through the car speakers. "It looks as though your mark is headed to the same location as Galahad's - an apparently disused nightclub on the edge of town."

"That's shady as fuck," he said, turning up the car's air conditioning another notch, "right you are. Anything else I should know?"

"There are three ways in - front door, back door, and fire escape on the first floor. I suggest you and Galahad each use a separate entrance, given that we can't get eyes on the interior. There's no cameras or electronic security in place, so I suspect they're doing things the old fashioned way - "

"Guns and muscle, I gotcha."

" - which means there's nothing for us to hack into. The only eyes we have are yours. If anything else comes up, we'll let you know. Galahad will be waiting for you at the back entrance. Good luck, and we’ll be back online shortly."

"Thanks babe." He just caught the derisive snort on the other end of the line before Gringolet cut out for the time being. 

Eggsy parked the car on the street behind to avoid looking even more suspicious than he no doubt already did, and approached the grimy building from behind. He was making his way to the back door when Harry stepped neatly out of the shadows, not a hair out of place and looking like his day had gone a lot better than Eggsy's had. Damn. Eggsy knew he was smooth in his own way, but if in twenty years time he could look half as fucking unflappable as Harry, he’d be happy. 

"Gawain."

"Galahad." He grinned at Harry, letting his serious business face slip for a moment while he knew there was no one there to see it. Well, other than Merlin on the other end of Harry's glasses feed. 

"Do you want the back door?" Harry nodded to the flaking red paint of the door in front of them. "Or the fire escape?" he gestured to the rickety metal staircase leading to the exit on the first floor.

"I'll take the fire exit," Eggsy said, straightening his glasses, ready to alert Gringolet if needs be. "Can't have you throwing your back out getting up them stairs, old man."

"Don't be rude," said Harry lightly as he reached for the door handle. "You watch your own back, and leave me to worry about mine. Good luck, Gawain," he stepped into the dim light of the club, leaving Eggsy to head for the fire escape, "see you inside."

In hindsight, it didn't much matter whether they entered the building together or not. It all went tits up regardless. 

~

"How the fuck was we supposed to know she was CIA?" Eggsy looked up at the screen showing the details of a woman he and Harry had shot down along with several other members of the family during the scuffle at the Spanish nightclub.

"None of us knew Gawain, and watch your fucking language."

"Sorry Arthur," said Eggsy as he, Harry, Merlin and Arthur soldiered on through the debriefing from hell. 

"With all due respect, that's a question I'd also quite like to know the answer to," said Harry from his seat to Eggsy's right, the picture of unconcern, unless you knew where to look for it. Eggsy did. The left side of his mouth kept twitching tight with displeasure, and he would routinely run his tongue over his front teeth. "How on earth didn't we know about this sooner?"

"For starters, the CIA are no more aware of our existence than anyone else in the world, so they could hardly drop us an email and let us know," began Merlin, voice gruff with irritation and lack of sleep. "It's the sort of thing that would usually be picked up on during initial data mining, well before any knights are on the scene. But this particular agent," he looked up to the screen on the dining room wall to check the name, "Agent Summers, was so deep under cover, that she completely evaded our intel. She infiltrated the family as soon as they started to gather momentum in the hard drugs and weapons trade, only a few weeks after V Day."

"I do wish you wouldn't call it that," said Arthur from where she stood by the window, flipping open a silver cigarette case and lighting up. Was she even allowed to do that in here...? Since neither Merlin or Harry gave her a second glance, he supposed so. 

"She managed to catch the eye of one of the sons, and within the month, was posing as his partner and had proven herself trustworthy enough to be let in on the nature of the family business," Merlin continued. "She'd been logging their every move since and sending anything of note back to CIA HQ to take the whole family down from the inside."

"That certainly would have been tidier," Harry grimaced at the blood still splattered liberally over his suit.

"Quite." said Merlin dryly. 

"Wondered how she was so much better with a gun than the rest of 'em," Eggsy glanced down at the dressing on his upper arm. She'd only nicked him, but still. 

"Have the CIA uncovered the identity of either agent, or the nature of Kingsman?" said Arthur.

"Not as yet," Merlin shook his head. "They'll be mighty pissed off though. You offed one of their top agents and lost them months of work, I'd be surprised if they just let it drop without a fight of sorts. I wouldn’t if it were me. Though your identities aren't compromised for the time being, I wouldn't be surprised if Agent Summers was transmitting to her boss when you attacked the nightclub - they'll have got a good look at your faces."

"Fan-fucking-tastic." The thought wasn't a comforting one. Sure, Eggsy might have saved the world once or twice, but the thought of the entire weight of the fucking CIA bearing down on he and Harry was hardly a good one. 

"Thank you, Gawain. The question is, what should we do about it for now?" Arthur ran a hand over her perfectly styled grey hair and tapped the loose ash from her cigarette. "I can hardly send either of you out on covert assignments when the CIA are on the lookout for the pair of you. It would jeopardise far more than just your safety. No offence."

"None taken, I assure you," Harry replied for the both of them.

"Merlin," Arthur looked to him, "your thoughts?"

"I'd suggest that Galahad and Gawain lay low for a while, either until this mess with the CIA blows over, or they give us the chance to talk to them and straighten it out. Our attempts to communicate so far have been.." Merlin pursed his lips as he considered the right word, “met with resistance."

"Bloody Americans," Arthur said as she blew smoke hard out of the window. Eggsy rather liked her.

"It would be unwise for them to be seen entering or leaving the shop or HQ for the time being, in case of discovery. And, as a precaution, I'd recommend neither of you return to your homes for a while either, or been seen wandering around London. It might seem like overkill, but in this case I'd rather be safe than sorry. You're still an unknown quantity to them, and it's bound to have got them worked up and ready to lash out. "

"What about my - "

"Eggsy, your mother and sister - and dog - will be perfectly safe." Of course Merlin had known what was worrying him the most in all this mess. "Safer, in fact, without you going home at all and risking getting them mixed up in this too."

"Right. Fine." His mum wouldn't worry too much, he'd told her he'd be away a little while anyway, just in case the mission overran. Thank fuck he did. It wouldn't stop him worrying about her though - he'd been worrying about his mum for twenty years, he wasn't about to stop now, despite her insistence he didn't need to any more. "Where are you planning on packin' us off to then?"

"We'll keep you in the UK, I think," said Arthur, putting out her cigarette in what was most likely a disgustingly expensive ashtray. "No need for you to go any further afield, and I'd rather limit your travel if I can. Less chance of you being seen. I'll leave further details to you, Merlin."

"As you like, Arthur," Merlin nodded his agreement, before pulling up a map on the screen behind him. "We've a few safehouses dotted about, all currently empty apart from the one in Yorkshire, at the ready in case Bedivere's mission goes to shite..." he paused a moment in thought, before the corner of his mouth twitched with the barest hint of amusement. "How does Cornwall sound?"

"Bloody awful," said Harry immediately.

"Er, why there, exactly?” Not that it much mattered - wherever they were sent, it was bound to be as dull and low key as possible by necessity. Brilliant. 

“Merlin finds it amusing,” said Harry, which cleared up exactly fuck all. 

“It’s easily overlooked," Merlin replied, clearing the screen, "right in the south west corner of England, far from… well just about everything, actually. And very scenic. Right on the coast."

"Oh, it's by the sea?" Even to his own ears, Eggsy sounded like a hopeful child. So it wouldn't quite be the sun drenched shores he was picturing himself lounging on in Spain, but it was a change of scene, right? And he never had gotten his day at the beach, after the mission went down the drain. If he was going to be bored as fuck and stuck in the arse end of nowhere for the foreseeable future, he might as well try and get something out of it.

Merlin and Harry exchanged a look so quick Eggsy almost missed it, before Harry sighed in defeat. "Fine. We'll go. At least tell me it's got sodding central heating now, Merlin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is Helen Mirren because why the fuck not.
> 
> I picked Cornwall mainly because I live there. But more on that next chapter ;)  
> Not sure when I'll post next cos I'm away for New Year and a slow writer at the best of times. Seriously, how do some of you bang out chapters so quickly?


	2. Chapter 2

Eggsy didn’t often let himself dwell on how badly things could have been after V Day. It was over and done, so why worry? But he did think about it every once in a while to ground himself, when he needed reminding not to take it all for granted, and that there was always a chance for things to fuck up spectacularly. For starters, he could have died. Not ideal. There were at least five specific moments during that day when he’d thought his number was up, and plenty more that hadn’t even registered. He could have lost his mum or his sister, or both even, or his friends from home, in the mass riots caused by those nasty fucking sim cards. He could have lost Rox or Merlin, or any of the other members of Kingsman that he hadn't met properly at the time but now didn't know how he'd do without. And there _had_ been losses there - agents Tristan and Kay had been swayed by the previous Arthur into having the chips implanted, and Geraint hadn't fared so well in the riots. Three knights gone before he'd even met them.  
Could've lost Harry. He bloody well thought he had, at the time. Thankfully, he'd never had the time to properly process the information that Harry was gone in the mess that followed him getting shot. He'd saved the world. The bad guy was dead. He'd had a fumble between the sheets with a fucking princess. Then he went back home and crashed fucking _hard._ By the time he'd come around after a day or so of being dead to the world (sleeping on the sofa in Harry's office at HQ, not that it was anyone's business) Harry was in hospital in a critical but stable condition, and plans were already being made to bring him home. Which to be honest, was a fucking game changer. If Harry hadn't made it - well that was one 'what if' he'd rather not dwell on, thanks. 

A week after that, Harry was conscious again and Merlin spent half his time berating his friend for nearly dying and the other half threatening to kill him if he ever did something so stupid as getting shot in the face ever again. As it was, they'd kept the title of Galahad open for Harry, if there were no lingering effects of his actually pretty fucking awful injury that would prevent him carrying on. In a turn of events almost unheard of, the previous Gawain had retired before he could be killed on the job, V Day forcing him to re-evaluate things, and a fuckload of bureaucratic crap later the position had been given to Eggsy. And even better than that, once Harry was well enough to get back to work, he'd stepped up once again as Eggsy's unofficial mentor, supervising him if required and training him up in the areas he needed it. Which were becoming less and less by the day. Except there were clearly some areas they both still needed to work on, or they wouldn't have been on the way to a safehouse for their own protection from the fucking CIA. 

~

"Are we there yet?"

Eggsy had asked the question partly to see if it made Harry's mouth do that funny little twitchy thing it did when he was annoyed - it did - and partly through genuine curiosity. To keep as low a profile as possible, the two of them had driven down from HQ in a depressingly average car, and stuck to the speed limits. It felt like they'd been on the road for days. Harry wouldn't let him drive neither - he claimed Eggsy couldn't be trusted to drive sensibly enough. Twat. 

"Almost," said Harry as they turned off the main road and onto a narrow, winding road along a cliff top, more potholes than tarmac and loose stones flicking up to hit the sides of the car. Perhaps it was good it wasn't something so flashy if only for the sake of the paintwork. "To get into the village proper, you carry on along the main road instead of taking the turn. And the castle's only a mile or so from the safehouse."

"Wait," he couldn't have heard that right, surely, "castle?"

"Yes. Tintagel castle. Well, it's ruins now really, but impressive nonetheless."

"No shit," Eggsy knocked back the last of his coke and dropped the empty bottle by his feet, ignoring the sour look Harry gave him for it.

"Mm. Some legends claim it to be the place of conception of King Arthur. Utter bollocks of course, made up centuries ago and reinforced to lure the tourists in," Harry winced slightly as they bumped over a particularly bad dip in the road. "But apparently it's enough of a link that Merlin found it hilarious to set up a safehouse nearby."

"Hold up bruv, you're saying that Merlin chose this place just so he could get a giggle out of it?"

"Of course not, logistically it's actually rather spot on as far as laying low goes. But yes, he probably does get some strange kick out of it. Very odd sense of humour, that man."

They pulled up outside the house not long after. It was a squat little whitewashed cottage with dark windows and a wonky roof, battered from every angle by the wind where it sat amidst rocks and gorse bushes and scrubby grass. To be honest, it looked bleak as fuck.  
The first thing Eggsy heard when he got out of the car was the rush and roar of the sea below hitting the rock face. It took everything to not drop his bag and run towards the edge of the cliff like an excited child to peer at the water below. Besides, it was so fucking windy, he was genuinely worried he'd get blown over the edge. Another day, maybe. 

"Eggsy," Harry called from where he was wrestling with the front door key, "inside."

"Nobody's going to fucking find us here, Harry, Jesus," he said, slamming the car door. "You said it yourself, we're at the arse end of nowhere." 

As Eggsy suspected, it was pretty dismal inside. The décor seemed a cross between minimalistic abandoned shack and old lady's bedroom; the whitewashed walls bare except for the odd ugly landscape painting, the carpets an off-putting manky green. Every stair seemed to creak, every door crooked in its frame. The whole place smelt damp and musty, and he would have loved to set his mum on it with a can of Febreze. That said, there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. 

"Are you sure Kingsman owns this place?" Eggsy asked as he fiddled with a thick, brown blanket draped over the back of the sofa. "Looks like it's about to fall down."

"It's perfectly sound, I assure you," said Harry from where he was poking about in the kitchen. "It's been here well over a hundred years, it's not going anywhere now. And we do run maintenance on all of the safehouses every few months to make sure everything’s in order, so there shouldn't be any nasty surprises."

"If you say so, mate." 

They made a quick check of the rest of the house anyway before unpacking the meagre possessions they'd brought with them. There were two bedrooms, something Eggsy hadn't even thought to ask about before now, but which he probably should have - once there'd been a mix up on an overnight intel gathering trip to Ireland, and their room had only one bed. Harry had insisted on taking the sofa, then proceeded to spend the whole next day bitching about his back. There was no shower, only a fucking bath, and are you kidding it was _Kingsman_ how the fuck didn't they think to put in a sodding shower? When he said as much, Harry looked at him evenly and rattled off some crap about it being a very old, listed building, and there was only so much they could change, even if they wanted to. Though really he'd looked just as put out by the lack of certain comforts as Eggsy was. 

"Posh people have fucked up priorities," Eggsy muttered to himself as he started to rummage through the small medicine cabinet above the sink. Speaking of which... he stilled when he spotted the familiar packaging of a little box next to the first aid kit. "Condoms," he said in disbelief, holding the offending item up for Harry's inspection. "Why the fuck are there condoms in here?" 

Harry barely glanced up from where he was inspecting the quality of the towels in the airing cupboard. "This house is merely equipped with the same standard list of items that every Kingsman safehouse is Eggsy, don't get your knickers in twist."

"But why?" Eggsy put them back on the shelf. "Most safehouses are meant for one agent at a time, yeah? So no need for them there. Even if there's more than one agent staying, I'm guessing the chances of them shagging are pretty slim. And you can hardly bring some rando back to a safehouse for a shag can you, you'd be compromising the whole fucking - "

"As engaging as your musings on the topic are Eggsy," Harry interrupted, finally having deemed the towels worthy, "can't you just accept that it comes as a part of the Kingsman agenda of being prepared for every eventuality, and leave it at that?" 

"I thought that was the fucking scouts."

"Good," Harry seemed to take that as a yes. "Now, let’s see if we can get a fire going, shall we?"

"Fine, whatever," Eggsy grumbled but made to follow him down the stairs anyway. "Wait, I thought you said there was central heating."

Turned out that yeah there was heating, but it was piss poor and incapable of keeping out the chill of winter on the Cornish coast. Harry also claimed it made the place look more homely, as he started to build a fire in the grate. Though Eggsy reckoned he was mostly doing it just to give himself something to do - he might have been good at hiding it, but Harry disliked not having something to keep him busy.  
Eggsy observed every little movement he made as he got the fire going - the smudge of coal dust left on his wrist, the flick of his hand as he lit a match. He told himself it was because there weren't much else to look at, but to be honest even if they were in a crowded, noisy room his eye would probably have been drawn to Harry anyway. And it was as Harry sat back on his heels, pleased with the flames starting to catch in the grate, that it occurred to Eggsy he still knew very little about Harry and his past. He had the odd few concrete details sure, like Mr Pickles, how he took his tea, and the few fragments of stories the other agents had let slip in passing, but not as much as he'd like. Maybe it was time for that to change. Why not? There was fuck all else to do. 

~

Whenever he slept in any bed other than his own, even after all his time in the field, there was a moment of alertness just as Harry woke, a fraction of a second when he was tense all over and ready to fight his way out of whatever had befallen him. That morning was no different. His habitual moment of tension abated though when it was apparent he was in no immediate danger, and he opened his eyes. A white ceiling. Rough, whitewashed walls. A small window with a thick sill holding a square of grey sky. The musty smell of a house that hadn't been lived in for a long while, covered up by dried lavender and the smell of the sea. Sheets that, excepting where they'd leeched the warmth from his body, still felt cold and thin underneath him. Waves on the cliff face below. Seagulls. Loud snoring coming from the bedroom opposite his own. 

Ah yes.

Fuck.

He and Eggsy had ballsed up the mission in Spain and now the both of them were stuck in the mouldering safehouse by the sea. Wonderful. And the icing on the fucking cake - on top of that awful, heavy feeling of failure that came with any mission that ended badly - was that despite knowing that Eggsy was a more than capable agent, the fact remained that Harry was supposed to be monitoring him. The boy was still fresh faced and green as far as Kingsman were concerned, and Harry his mentor, his guide. And admittedly there was no way he could have known about the CIA's involvement, Christ even Merlin hadn't known about Agent Summers, but he couldn't shake the guilty feeling that he'd somehow fucked things up for Eggsy. The rational part of him knew that was bullshit, but then he was often irrational when it came to that boy. 

At least this time he wasn't condemned to spend the allotted time in the safehouse alone. He'd once spent the best part of a month totally alone and hidden away in some dank hole of an apartment that allegedly counted as a safehouse just outside Cairo. It had been... bloody awful, quite honestly. Harry enjoyed solitude, famously so, if only on his own terms, but putting up in a safehouse could get tedious. 

Though most assuredly not a morning person, Harry was not one for lie-ins either, and now he was awake there was no chance of getting any more sleep. Particularly through Eggsy's rampant snoring across the landing. If he was awake, he might as well have some tea.  
He'd taken stock of what food there was in the house during their sweep of the rooms the day before, so while he knew there would be little to work with, it would be far from the worst breakfast he'd ever endured. There was bread and bacon in the freezer, and tea and coffee, though it would have to be finished off with ghastly UHT milk - he couldn't drink the stuff without milk. Between fully stocked cupboards and a freezer, and a few items with a good date on the them in the fridge replaced during the last safehouse inspection, they'd get by just fine. There was also a respectable amount of booze in a cabinet in the sitting room, thank God. Before long, the chilly kitchen was warmed with the smell of bacon and toast, which was no doubt what had woken Eggsy and lured him downstairs. 

"Fuck yes, Harry," said Eggsy as he sauntered into the kitchen with a yawn, grey tracksuit bottoms riding low. 

"Good morning to you too."

"I'm ever so sorry," he said in his best 'posh voice,' smiling sleepily as he sat at the kitchen table, "good morning Mr Hart. I do hope you slept well."

"Cheeky," Harry said as he set down a plate in front of him. "And you snore."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, I don't do it all the time," Eggsy said, rubbing the back of his neck as he reached for the tomato ketchup, "just if I'm trying to sleep when I'm a bit wound up or something, you know."

"Hm." Harry filed that away for later. 

"Fuck me, I needed this," said Eggsy as he tore into the bacon. "I'm so glad you can cook, mate. I don't think I've ever made a breakfast that involved any actual cooking in my life. Was usually cereal or nothin'."

"It's far from my finest work, but thank you. Tea or coffee?"

The rest of the day passed in relative quiet, the both of them not quite sure what to do with themselves. Harry spent the majority of it reading, a Sherlock Holmes novel he'd read several times before from the poorly stocked bookshelf, but it passed the time. Every so often, he'd look up and spot Eggsy giving him an odd, furtive glance from behind his phone or one of the car magazines he'd brought with him. He couldn't think why - he was doing nothing of interest. He didn't have to ask, as it turned out. Eggsy told him that evening. 

"D'you know, I don't know nothin' about you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard."

"Yes, but I'm afraid I've no idea what you mean," Harry shifted deeper into the sofa cushions.

"Yeah you do," said Eggsy from where he sat by the fire, empty glass cupped between his hands. "I know the stupid little things, yeah. What aftershave you use, your scores on the shooting range, oxfords not fuckin' brogues and all that shit, but I don't know actual things."

"Of course you do," Harry said, though even as the words left his mouth he knew Eggsy was right. There were some things it had never seemed pertinent to share. 

"Nah, I don't," said Eggsy gently. "I'd like to though, if... if that's alright with you."

“I – “ He didn’t think anybody had ever shown such a sincere interest in him before, which was actually rather sad, come to think of it. Obviously he’d been faced with a variety of probing questions while on missions and the like, but it was all directed at an alias and therefore wasn’t real. Merlin knew just about everything of course, but then he’d never had to actually ask, which left him wondering if that really counted either. “Yes, Eggsy. I think that would be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be switching between both of their PoVs from now on. I find Harry a whole lot easier to write than Eggsy, unexpectedly.  
> Despite not living too far from Tintagel I've never been, so I may have taken some liberties with the area.  
> I feel like I had a whole load more notes, but I've forgotten them all now, so...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may well be the quickest fic update I've ever done wow.  
> So this chapter is mostly scenery porn and puddings with some flirting thrown in. Enjoy.

Three days after they'd been packed off to the safehouse, Harry deemed it safe enough for the two of them to leave the house and go for a walk about the cliff tops and across to the castle. Admittedly it was very unlikely they would have gotten into any trouble from the start, but he had to keep up the appearance of being responsible, and waltzing about the country when the CIA were potentially out for one's blood wasn't the best of ideas, at least on paper.  
The day was cold and clear, the sky a vivid blue above their heads, chilly air reaching out and grasping at any inch of bare skin it could reach. As a result, the pair of them were as wrapped up as they could manage, Harry in a black woolen coat - Kingsman issue of course - and Eggsy in some blue and yellow monstrosity of a jacket. He resolutely ignored how endearing Eggsy looked, all pink faced with cold and excited to be out of the house at last, bundled up in one of Harry's scarves because he hadn't thought to bring one himself. 

It was an enchanting mix of the desolate and the beautiful. Empty sky and craggy ground, patchy with sparse heather and gorse as they picked their way along a narrow footpath. The track brought them closer to the edge of the cliff, sea stretching far off into the distance where it blurred with the sky, crashing hard and strong onto the rocks below, white spray and sea foam tossed back up towards them. They stopped a moment to look out over the water, and it occurred to Harry then just how few people there were in his life that he'd trust to stand so close to him on top of a cliff. Eggsy looked enraptured. 

"Shit."

"Quite."

"It looks like fucking Poldark." Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Mum fancies Aidan Turner."

"If you say so."

Eggsy grinned and elbowed him in the side before bouncing off along the path. "Come on then Sir Galahad, show me this fucking castle."

Tintagel castle, it turned out, was well worth a look. The myths associated with it may well have been largely fanciful invention by authors and those in the tourist trade, but that made it no less beautiful. Empty windows and half-fallen arches gaped wide, old stone worn and lichen covered and pitted with centuries of wind and rain and salt air rough to the touch and towering impossibly high. A lingering trace of magic in the dark corners where wind whistled through the gaps left by time. There was something about the ruins of once great places, he thought, that made them more full of majesty than in the past when they were whole. A little sad too perhaps, but it was the way of things, and it gained something by being so lost to the ages. It was easy to see why such a place would become associated with the old myths that so fascinated the English. 

"Well, it's nice and all," said Eggsy once he'd stopped gaping, "but I don't think Arthur would think much of setting up HQ here. Bit draughty."

"Don't be absurd," said Harry. "There'd be nowhere for Merlin to plug his tablet in."

Eggsy snorted and challenged Harry to a race up a set of great, stone steps. Harry refused to indulge him, and made his way up to join him at a leisurely pace. Eggsy was waiting for him at the top on a stretch of grass, breathing hard and nose pink, breath misting in the chilly air. It would have been so easy to just take his hand then, so natural that Harry's fingers twitched towards him before he reined himself in and tucked his hand back in his own pocket. Bloody hell, he'd gotten laughably soft over that boy. He was too old for such fanciful and romantic thoughts as it was, too hardened by life, never mind that they were for Eggsy. It was terribly inconvenient. Perhaps twenty years ago, it might have seemed less of a worry, but now... He snuck another look across at Eggsy while the boy stared out towards the sea. His lips were chapped and bitten pink, posture hunched slightly against the cold, and eyes narrowed against the white winter sun. He hadn't mentioned his request from a few nights previous - to know more about Harry and his past - since the first time he'd brought it up. Perhaps it wasn't so dear to him as he'd first implied. 

"Nice as this is," Eggsy interrupted his thoughts, "I am fucking freezing. Like really cold. So cold that my - "

"Eggsy," Harry neatly cut across him, "if you manage to make it the entire walk back to the house without once mentioning how cold you are, I'll make you pudding when we get back."

"You'll make me what?"

"Pudding."

Eggsy blinked at him a moment, before his face cracked into a grin. "I knew you could do breakfast, but that is next level shit, Harry. Sold."

~

As soon as they got back to the house, Eggsy darted up the stairs for a burning hot bath to warm up - "I literally cannot feel my balls, Harry, it's so fucking cold" - but not before reminding Harry to make good on his promise. With no more than the token reprimand about pleases and thank yous, Harry traipsed into the kitchen to get started. He turned on the oven immediately to chase away the chill of the stone walls, and set about pulling what he needed from the cupboards. When Eggsy came back down twenty minutes later, Harry was just sliding a dish into the oven, the air warm with the smell of apples and cinnamon. Harry was all for being prepared, but he honestly wasn't expecting the safehouse to have a ruddy spice rack. 

"Was that my pudding?" Eggsy stood in the kitchen doorway, scrubbing his fingers through bath-damp hair. 

"Yes," Harry shut the oven door with a satisfying click and tried not to think about replacing Eggsy's fingers with his own, "apple crumble." 

"Aw mate, how the fuck do you even know how to make shit like this?" He moved over to the counter, poking through the packets and kitchen implements yet to be put away, sniffing delicately at the cinnamon shaker. "I mean I know my way around an oven and a microwave, I - I had to sort myself out for food sometimes when I was young... mostly just chicken nuggets and beans and stuff. Y'know, the standard," he smiled sheepishly over his shoulder. "I got a bit better when my sister came along, for her sake, but still nothin' to write home about. Thank God for microwaves, eh?"

It was easy to forget sometimes, how very different their childhoods had been. Of course he was intimately familiar with the circumstances of Eggsy's upbringing, and once again he wished he'd tried a little harder to assist them, Michelle's request to be left alone be damned. In the face of Eggsy's stilted admission, he felt obliged to offer a little something of himself. Wanted to, in fact. "I've been in this business for almost thirty years, Eggsy. I've been holed up in hotel rooms and safehouses and places considerably less comfortable more times than I care to count. I know how to improvise when it comes to food." Not that there had been any need to improvise this time; the house was fairly well stocked, after all. "But I must admit, this particular skill I owe to my grandmother." 

An hour later, the two of them were seated at the tiny kitchen table, so close that they elbowed each other as they ate the hot crumble straight from the dish. Eggsy had persuaded Harry that there were certain times when the rulebook for being a gentleman should be thrown out the window, and one of those times was pudding. Nonsense of course, but Harry was feeling indulgent. Whether it was directed towards himself or Eggsy, was a question he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. It was all terribly domestic, and he probably should have put an end to it. Needless to say, he didn't. 

~

That evening, warm and content and full of crumble, Eggsy decided the time was right to properly kick off his find out more shit about Harry initiative. They were back in the sitting room, fire glowing and lights low, Eggsy sprawled out across the sofa, and Harry still primly upright in the squashy armchair next to the fireplace. He hadn't changed his mind about knowing more about Harry, he'd just been waiting for the right moment. And after Harry's cautious sharing of the happy, if dim, memories of his grandmother earlier, he was keen to see what else he could uncover. 

"I meant it when I said I wanted to know more about you, you know."

Harry glanced briefly up from the book he was reading. "I didn't doubt it."

"Right," he said, as Harry's attention returned to his book. "Well, I thought you might get all funny and old man about it, so I'll be a gentleman and let you ask me something you want to know first."

"Is that so?"

Eggsy shrugged, the blanket covering the sofa scratchy against his arms. "Two way street, bruv. Thought it might pay to chill you out a bit before I start pumping you for info," he grinned, knowing that behind the flat look Harry gave him in reply, he was secretly amused. 

"How kind of you," he said dryly, finally setting the book aside. "Fine. Your favourite colour."

"Jesus fucking Christ Harry."

"What?"

"What the fuck sort of question is that? We ain't four. You're meant to ask fun shit like... I don't know, where's the weirdest place you've ever had a shag. Or which of the other Lancelot candidates I would've banged if I had to."

"That is utterly juvenile," Harry said levelly, settling deeper into the chair to cross his legs neatly. 

"Harry - "

"Fine. As you put it so eloquently, which of the Lancelot candidates you trained with would you most like to have 'banged?'"

"Well," said Eggsy, wriggling further back into the sofa cushions, "as much as I love Rox, she ain't really my type. Sister vibes, yeah? And Charlie was fit - "

"I beg your pardon?"

" - but he was such a wanker he pretty much cancelled it out. Nah, I'd definitely pick Hugo."

"Oh? And why is that, may I ask?" Harry was doing his best to look uninterested, but Eggsy knew him better than that. He was waiting on his every word. 

"Weapons maintenance, " he said. "I was watching him while Merlin was timing how quick we could clean and put a gun back together. He had really nice hands. Sort of got me wondering what else he could do with them, you know?"

"My dear boy, I think the entire world and their mother knows what you mean."

"And once or twice on the runs 'round the estate, I might have slowed down to run behind him on purpose. He had the most lovely, round arse... Walked in on me once while I was rubbing one off in the shower and all. That was awkward as fuck."

"They were communal showers Eggsy, what did you expect? " said Harry flatly.

"My go," Eggsy said instead of answering, and hauled himself to sit up. "Since you already took one of my questions, I'll take the other - weirdest shag location?"

"I won't be coy and pretend I don't have rather a lot to choose from on that score. But I would have to say, for sheer bravery," the corner of Harry's mouth twitched in a faint smile at the memory, "Merlin's bed."

"Shut up." Technically it was still a bed and therefore nothing wild by any means, but it was _Merlin's._ Which brought up the very uncomfortable question - "Wait, he wasn't in it too, was he?"

"Oh Christ no," he said. "Merlin is to me as Roxy is to you, I believe. It was a work do some years back that he was unlucky enough to be hosting. I was having a bit of a thing with one of the techs at the time, and after a drink or two, we thought it would be funny."

"That's mental. I would've thought he'd have fucking robots or some shit guarding his bedroom. Did you have an actual death wish?"

"No robots. Although the door was electronically locked - the tech managed to break in. She was rather brilliant, actually," he said lightly. "But brilliance aside, I assure you Merlin was far from impressed when he found out."

"Fucking hell, Harry, " Eggsy grinned, and tried not to be jealous of a woman he'd never met.

They swapped a few more stories after that, mostly things about family and childhood that neither particularly wanted to talk about, but that both were willing to share if it helped each get a better measure of the other. As much as Eggsy hated dragging up all the shit about Dean again, and his dad would always be a bit of a sketchy subject for the two of them, it was worth it to hear Harry's halting memories of his own time growing up. He had an older brother and a sister, apparently, and a witch of a nanny who used to shut him in a cupboard, and he'd started learning how to ride a horse when he was five. 

"Could you still do it now, d'you think?"

"I haven't done it for years, but you know what they say. It's the sort of thing that doesn’t leave you, I imagine."

"Maybe you could teach me sometime."

"Really?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "I didn't have you down as much of a horseman."

"Might come in handy," Eggsy said, although he could think of exactly no situation it would ever be useful. Honestly, he really didn't think it would be his thing, but with Harry teaching him, who knew. 

Eggsy's narrow little bed felt very cold that night, after hours spent by the fire, with Harry a foot away and waiting on his every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl the reason I updated so quickly is because the next chapter I get to up the rating and I am excited.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% on this chapter, but whatever.  
> Thanks for the comments you guys, I'll try and reply to some later :)

"Morning, Galahad."

"Merlin."

"How are you holding up?"

"I thought you said you wouldn't risk making contact in case they intercepted it."

"That's correct."

"So why the pleasantries? I very much doubt you phoned up for a chat."

"Jesus Galahad, I only asked how you are."

"... A little tense, I suppose." 

"You don't say."

"Am I being obvious?"

"A tad."

"It's been two weeks, Merlin."

"You've been through worse Harry, don't be so dramatic. Look, it's just a quick call to let you know we've not forgotten you. I'm afraid we're not much closer to making contact with America than we were when you left. Arthur's doing her nut being two agents down and half the techs trying to hack into the CI-fucking-A."

"Well, if you really need another pair of hands - "

"Not a chance Galahad. Just sit tight like a good boy."

"You're insufferable." 

"And how's your puppy?"

"I don't know what you - "

"Eggsy. How's he dealing with being cut off from civilisation?"

"He... wears it remarkably well, actually."

~

"A'ight Rox?"

"Just fine Eggsy, thanks. You?"

"Alright. Not as boring as I thought it might be."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, the view's pretty sweet. And y'know, never a dull moment with Harry."

"I see."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"Yeah pull the other one Rox, you did that thing wiv your voice like you know something I don't."

"I did no such thing!"

"What is it? Is it something about Harry? What do you know Roxy, come on."

"Sorry Eggsy, got to go, Merlin said not to be on the phone too long."

"Fine, keep it to yourself then. I - good talking to you, Rox."

"You too, Eggsy."

"Stay safe, yeah?"

"Promise. Enjoy yourself."

~

Just like every evening since the two of them had been in the safehouse, they lit the fire to keep out the more or less constant chill. Eggsy was almost too hot, sitting sprawled on the hearth as close to the flames as he could, rain battering against the little windows. Harry was on the sofa, leaning back in the most relaxed position Eggsy had ever seen him in, excepting the times he'd occupied a hospital bed. They'd opened one of the few bottles of wine hidden at the back of a kitchen cupboard to go with dinner, and Harry held the last of it delicately as they spoke. 

"Who's the best celebrity you've ever met?" Eggsy said, shuffling around to get rid of the numbness in his legs from sitting too long. 

"What do you mean by 'best?'"

"I dunno, your favourite. Most interestin'. I'll go first yeah? Mine's Adele."

"The singer?" Harry looked up from his chipped wineglass in surprise.

"Yep."

"That's rather unexpected. Why so?"

"Her music ain’t really my thing, but you can't deny that lady's got talent. She knows what she's about, she didn't go pretending to be all fancy and someone she ain't to make it big time. And she was a right laugh and all." He smiled at the memory of meeting her - it had been in some suitably swanky club that some producer or whatever was holding a party. And yeah it was pretty low risk, but Kingsman often scored a ticket to such events where the concentration of celebs was high, if one of the agents was free and willing to attend. They'd found themselves seated in the same booth for a while, the singer saying Eggsy looked familiar, but was dressed far too nice to be anyone she knew from home. Eggsy'd made some ridiculous comment in return, and they'd chatted for a while. "Your go."

Harry took a moment to think about it, swirling the dregs of red wine around his glass before saying decisively, "Maggie Smith."

"You what?" Sure, she was a big name and all, but Harry must have been to hundreds of star-studded events during his career, rubbed shoulders (and maybe more) with any number of glamourous people, and his somewhat tame choice surprised him. "Haven't you met like, Brad Pitt and stuff?"

"Yes," said Harry, sipping at the wine. Eggsy watched him swallow. "In fact I did consider the charity event I attended hosted by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. But it sounded nothing more than terrible name dropping, which I find rather distasteful. Besides, they were busy enough with other guests that I didn't really speak to them."

"No shit."

"When I met Ms Smith, it was one of the few times I'll admit to having been genuinely lost for words - she's an intimidating presence. I was in rather a panic not to say something stupid," he smiled ruefully. "I was more apprehensive about meeting her than I was the Queen."

"You've met the Queen?"

"Naturally."

"Shut up."

"We both know for a fact that you've met a princess, so there's no use in sounding so awed."

Ever since their first round of questioning, Harry always seemed to be half expecting Eggsy to ask him something racy. And Eggsy didn't disappoint, asking all kinds of things about the weird tastes of honeypot marks and illicit things he'd had to observe either in person or through the glasses feed to get the job done. But every now and then, he delighted in the chance to catch him off guard with something thoroughly ordinary. The fact that he enjoyed hearing these more personal answers as much as the mildly pornographic ones was something he was trying to ignore. "An easy one for you next, old man," he never got tired of the way Harry would bristle at those words. "Cats or dogs?"

If the question surprised Harry, he didn't show it. "I enjoy the company of both," he said, "and though I've only ever had dogs before, I must say I've always fancied having a cat."

"Yeah? How come you never 'ave then?"

"For one thing, Mr Pickle was very firmly against the idea," he said pointedly. "And after he died, the time just... never seemed right. As you well know, we're kept very busy, and I wonder if it would be fair on the poor thing."

Eggsy shook his head. "That's a weak arse excuse Harry."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"All the Kingsman, including you, have had dogs or still do, and they manage, yeah? And everyone knows cats are good at looking out for themselves better than dogs anyway, so why not?"

"... Perhaps I will. Sometime."

There was an odd little silence between them then, not awkward exactly, but an undefinable shift in mood. Eggsy had no idea what had brought it on, unless it was that the reasons for Harry not feeling up to owning a pet were somehow more telling, more intimate, than stupid anecdotes about rich people at posh parties. And he'd thought 'cats or dogs' would be an easy one. Fuck. 

"Alright then," Eggsy cleared his throat, keen to set the evening back to rights, "your go."

"If you were to get a tattoo, what would you get?"

"How do you know I don't already?" He winked, glad for the chance to turn the conversation to more familiar and comfortable territory just the safe side of flirting, playing up on shallow chat rather than feeling like he'd over-involved himself in Harry's personal life. Although it was probably a bit late for that, truth be told. 

"The surveillance from your recruit training and missions, and the fact that you have absolutely no modesty," said Harry dryly.

"Oh yeah, that." Well he couldn't argue with the second part - he didn't give a flying fuck who saw what of him to be honest. He didn't flaunt himself, he just couldn't see the point of hiding either. "I might have to get back to you on that," he said in the end, honestly not sure of the answer and not willing to make one up for the sake of it, "there's a few things I like the idea of, and I don't wanna pick something and hate it later."

"Dirty cheat," Harry knocked back the last of his drink.

"Thought you might say that," Eggsy grinned, "so I'll tell you this instead - I have got a piercing."

A beat of silence. "Is that so?"

"Uh huh."

"I'm surprised Merlin let that slide."

"He wasn't so happy about it, nah."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, seeing as it doesn't seem to be in your face or ears, but where might it be?" Harry's face was carefully neutral. 

"Left nipple."

"Ah."

"I take it out quite a lot, you know, for missions and stuff. And it proper messes up the line of some of my shirts."

"Well," Harry's jaw was tight, "I'm glad to see you're finally taking that seriously, at least."

Eggsy snorted and rolled his shoulder until it popped. "I get enough lectures from you as it is, thought it would be one less to sit through."

They talked a while longer, probably about nothing much, but to be honest Eggsy couldn't really remember, because he was too busy trying not to be obvious about his staring at Harry. The fire had burnt low, warm light from the embers catching the side of his face and softly lighting his profile. He was beautiful, for want of a better word, reclining back on the sofa and drinking wine like a fucking Roman Emperor or some shit, every inch in control even though everything about his posture was relaxed, and Eggsy wanted it. Wanted to crawl over there and climb into his lap, mess him up a bit, chase every fragment of calm and control out of him, and have Harry do the same to him in return. But he couldn't. He wasn't fucking brave enough to take it, or perhaps it was some twisted self-preservation thing telling him he shouldn't. He'd get over it, right? He had to, because no fucking way could Harry be so stupid as to fall for him. He thought he saw something in Harry's face sometimes, a softening with affection or sharpness with heat but it was probably just his own wishful thinking, borne of wanting something he couldn't have. The thought soured his mood and made him suddenly and irreversibly grumpy, and he didn't want to just sit there any longer. 

"I'm gunna go to bed."

"Oh? Are you quite well?" He looked so sincere, so honestly concerned that Eggsy might have been feeling even the tiniest bit poorly, and... fuck. He needed to go upstairs.

"Yeah fine, just... personal reasons." Fuck, that sounded idiotic. He was going to bed, not asking for a day off work, Jesus. "I mean, I'm tired is all."

"Alright," Harry didn't look convinced, but let Eggsy go all the same. "Goodnight, then."

"Yeah. Night." He managed a quick half smile over his shoulder before escaping up the stairs.

_Personal reasons._   
Pfft. Yeah, if personal reasons included imagining various scenarios in which Harry grabbed him and shagged him silly over the closest available surface. Whatever.   
He tried not to overthink it. Overthinking how he felt about Harry... well, it got too messy too fast for him to be able to know what he really wanted from him. Not that what was happening in his head wasn't messy either, but it was a different kind of mess. Not a jumble of what ifs and maybes and consequences, but a mess of themselves - of hands and mouths and sweat.  
It was what he thought of as he shut his bedroom door behind him, fumbled with the fucking old as balls and rusting latch, and leant with relief against the doorframe as he stuck his hand down his trackies. And alright yeah he might have thought of Harry as he did so - thought of Harry sitting in that fucking stupid firelight, Harry sucking a mark into the skin of his neck, Harry making some snotty comment about his taste in underwear before shoving his hand into Eggsy's boxers all the same. He thought of Harry smiling at him by the sea, Harry's hand, broad and hot over his arse, Harry whispering fucking filthy shit Eggsy couldn't even dream up in his ear as he ran his fingers over Eggsy's cock. He wasn't completely certain which were memories and which were inventions, as he breathed harder and faster and grasped at his dick, and wasn't that pretty fucked up? They'd been there two weeks and he hadn't touched himself once, now the rush of it hit him hard and he was desperate to get off, quick and dirty. He clenched his teeth together to stop himself doing something idiotic like yelling Harry's name when he came over his hand. His breathing evened out as the clock above his bed ticked loud and steady in the silence of the house, wondering how the fuck he was going to get the come out of the carpet, and knowing that he really had to do something about this before it got out of hand. Pun intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so it barely scrapes into an M rating, but there's more to come I promise you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought back.  
> Also I finally watched the newest Lady Chatterley's Lover that was on back in September, and flipping Edward Holcroft was in it. I'm gunna have to write some AUs where Charlie's not dead because I love him.

Eggsy woke to the sound of rain hitting the window. Just for a fucking change. It'd rained the last four days solid, and not half-arsed London drizzle neither, but heavy rain flung at the house by vicious winds that made the rafters creak and windows rattle. It was a fucking wonder the roof hadn't been ripped away in the night. It made him think of fairy stories, the ones he'd read to his sister when she came to stay, ones about dark nights and heroines lost in storms, witches in disguise and magic spells. Unfortunately, these storms were real, and they were a bitch. Just to top things off, it made going outside impossible too, or really fucking miserable anyway. And alright, of all people to be stuck in a house with, Harry was probably one of the best case scenarios, but forced proximity to him was its own kind of torture. 

They ate every meal together, which meant a hell of a lot of time was spent sitting at the table, or on the sofa if Harry was feeling charitable, bickering about how Eggsy felt the need to put ketchup on everything and how Harry never added enough salt. Harry was usually the one to cook, but Eggsy was helping him more often now, hands knocking as they reached for the same knife, side-stepping each other around the kitchen to check on whatever was in the oven. They'd avoided disaster so far, anyway. If he fancied lounging about in the sitting room for a bit, Harry would invariably already be there, reading or scribbling the answers into a months old crossword puzzle, even though Eggsy knew he didn't enjoy them. It was times like that he wished there was a telly in the house, a distraction if nothing else. He'd get up in the morning to have a piss or take a shower, and Harry would be just finishing up, stepping politely aside to let him through, clean-shaven and leaving the tiny bathroom smelling like his aftershave.  
It was fucking ridiculous, and Eggsy didn't know how much longer he could take it. If it were anyone else, he would have made a move long before now. And even though he thought he saw an answering something every now and then when Harry glanced at him while they sat by the fire in the evenings, the very idea of Harry turning him down was enough that he couldn't bring himself to risk it. Which was really fucking messed up; he'd always been an act now, think later kind of bloke, y'know? But, like with every other part of his life, Harry had strolled right in and flipped that on its head too. He'd known Harry was gorgeous from the start - hello, he had eyes - and obviously he cared about him a lot, but before coming to stay in this stupid little house, the two things had seemed like totally separate issues. But in the past few days, he'd come to think that perhaps they were both part of the same thing, a big, fucking _huge,_ and impossible to ignore thing, that he'd only be able to keep under wraps for so long, Kingsman or not. 

Big fucking surprise, day four of torrential rain was not much different from the first three. They had breakfast together, along with all the usual 'I hope you slept well' and shit from Harry because he was too polite to drop it. It didn't stop him pointing out that Eggsy was snoring again though, did it. Where's your fucking manners now, old man? After they'd eaten they moved to the sitting room, Harry pulling out a newspaper Eggsy knew full well he'd already read at least twice. As for himself, he used the scant bit of floor space in the room available to go through a few stretches and floor exercises, sits ups and pushups and shit, to try and work off some of the nervous energy built up from being shut up in the sodding house. Every now and then he'd look up on some weird impulse to make sure Harry was still there, which of fucking course he was, nose buried in the paper and looking supremely untroubled. Sometimes he'd look up and Harry would be looking at him too, but before Eggsy could make out his expression he'd smile blandly, and go back to the paper. 

They had soup for lunch, though Harry eyed the cans with distaste. Eggsy elbowed him in the ribs and told him not to be such a fucking snob as he poured into a pan to heat. It was _soup._ But when it came to eating the stuff, Eggsy realised it maybe wasn't the brand that had Harry wincing, but the soup itself. Harry always handled his knife and fork with supreme precision, as a proper gentleman should, but it turned out that when it came to soup, he was a fucking messy bastard. He spent more time licking it off his fingers than eating it off the spoon, and wasn't that a fucking sight. 

Eggsy took a sip of water to distract himself, and promptly choked on it.

"Are you alright?" Harry looked up from where he was licking a spot of soup off his thumb, frowning in concern. 

Eggsy nodded, wiping water from his chin as the coughing subsided. "There was a fucking dog hair in it." He pulled the single hair from where it stuck to his lip, the unmistakable light colour of a certain pug. He flicked it away. "Mate, that's rank. He's not even fuckin' here and his hair's all over everything." It was weirdly comforting, actually. Like he could be in deep cover half the world away, in China or South Africa or whatever, and he'd sometimes come across one of JB's hairs stuck to a sock, even though he'd been away for days. 

"Hm," Harry's mouth twitched in amusement. "Fortunately, Mr Pickle was never much of a moulter."

Deciding that he couldn't hack another evening of pretending not to notice the odd glances they snuck at each other in the firelight, Eggsy went to dig through the cupboard under the stairs. He'd had a quick rummage around in it when they'd first arrived, and had spotted - alongside a hoover and ironing board and the like - a small stack of board games. Once, he might have taken the piss - board games were for people either old or boring as fuck - but since joining Kingsman and realising just how much of the job involved waiting around, he'd had no choice but to accept them as an unexpectedly effective way of killing time. Although he still tried to avoid the frankly vicious tournaments set up by the other knights... Bedivere had a nasty scar on his cheek that he claimed was from a heated game of Scrabble gone awry, and Eggsy still wasn't sure if he was joking or not. 

"Clear your schedule," Eggsy said as he marched over to where Harry was already sitting in the arm chair, "cos we got big plans tonight."

"Oh?" Harry looked up, immediately suspicious but ever indulgent. "And what might they be?"

"We," Eggsy set the box down triumphantly, "are going to play Snakes and Ladders." 

~

The board game Eggsy had produced, seemingly from nowhere, had started out fairly sensibly. And since it was a game that relied largely on the luck of the roll of the dice more than skill or tactics, there was little room for either to cheat. Which they undoubtedly would be, had Eggsy returned with Monopoly instead. But it didn't take long for it to devolve; Eggsy wondering loudly if they should do a shot every time they landed on a snake, or what the rules would be for strip Snakes and Ladders - hypothetically, of course. Lamorak would enjoy that no doubt, the old pervert. The strip poker debacle of '09 still made Harry wince.

"Another six," he said, smirking as he slid his counter six squares along the board, narrowly avoiding a snake. 

"How are you fucking doing this?" Eggsy muttered, frowning as he rolled the dice again and moved his counter one lowly square. It was pure luck, of course, but Eggsy didn't need to know that.

After Harry won the fifth game, making the score 4-1 in his favour, Eggsy had decided he must be cheating somehow, and had taken to attempting to sabotage his dice rolling. Every time Harry was about to drop the dice, Eggsy would do something terribly distracting, such as fake a coughing fit or blow in his ear, in an attempt to make him fluff the throw. Not that it made the slightest bit of difference to the result, but Eggsy seemed to find it amusing. Although that may have also been partly due to the fact that he had relented to Eggsy's request to get alcohol involved, and they'd broken out the vodka partway through game three. Harry didn't much care for the stuff, despite the brand being an excellent one, but since it was for shots only he didn't much mind. Rather that than waste something that ought to be savoured on it. 

Just as he was about to roll again, Eggsy launched whole heartedly into a truly awful rendition of some ghastly pop song, and that time it really did make Harry flinch and drop he dice. The move made him land on the longest snake on the board, taking him back several spaces and behind Eggsy. And that just wasn't cricket. It was time for retaliation. Harry wasn't quite sure what possessed him to do it - well, other than the vodka and the fact that he wanted to - but as Eggsy shook the dice between his cupped hands, about to roll, Harry leant to the side and pressed a kiss to Eggsy's cheek. That wiped the smug look off his face. Eggsy dropped the dice, gaping a him long enough that Harry was debating between doing it again or beating a hasty retreat, before Eggsy looked away to see what he'd rolled. 

"A fucking six," he crowed, moving his counter forward and winning the game. "Put that in your pipe and smoke it, old man." 

They gave it up not long after that in favour of just talking, about nothing in particular, by the fireside. Harry wasn't one for making conversation - or not real conversation anyway, though he was brilliant at polite small talk - but even after weeks spent alone with Eggsy in the safehouse, they still had things to talk about. Eggsy was just finishing regaling Harry with the events of his little sister's last birthday, practically glowing as he talked about how much she had enjoyed the much more lavish affair than he and his mum had previously been able to give her. The boy had a heart of fucking gold when it came to his family. His face had pinked up from the glow of the fire - not likely to be from the vodka, they both had higher tolerances to be feeling anything serious from that - and undeniably adorable. He found his attention sliding down to Eggsy's mouth as he spoke, watching each curve and stretch of his lips, and good grief he was in trouble. 

"You're not even listening are you."

He fixed his attention back on Eggsy's eyes, determined not to let his slip up show. "Quite the contrary, I assure you."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Eggsy said dismissively, "I got another question for you."

"Fire away."

"What would you do if I was to come over there and stick my tongue in your mouth?"

"I - " The question, phrased so bluntly, knocked Harry for six, because he'd thought about it - God, he'd barely been able to stop himself thinking about it - though he'd never seriously considered suggesting it. But it wasn't he who was doing the asking, was it. It was Eggsy asking him, and that was another matter entirely, one he hadn't spared a thought for. _Now or never, Hart, suck it up._ He cleared his throat. "As hideous as your phrasing may be, Eggsy, I rather think I might let you."

Eggsy blinked for a moment in disbelief, before grinning, wide and sunny with plain, honest happiness. "Fuck yes."

He crawled the scant distance across the hearth to where Harry sat, made gold by the firelight and hair fallen over his face, before climbing into his lap without hesitation. Harry felt Eggsy's breath catch as he settled his weight on top of him, a knee each side of his hips. Slowly, but not hesitantly, teasing and savouring rather than unsure, Eggsy brought his mouth to Harry's. He bypassed the sweet chasteness of lips pressing together in a closed mouth kiss entirely, and instead parted his lips for Harry immediately, tongue insistent and sucking soft on his lower lip. Initially, the rush of pleasure and the _thank God finally_ held Harry still where he sat, unmoving under Eggsy's ministrations. But then Eggsy shifted his weight, an impatient whine in his throat, and Harry woke up and kissed him back wholeheartedly, hands moving up to curl in Eggsy's hair and drawing his lip gently between his teeth. Eggsy nearly knocked Harry backwards with the force that he rocked against him with, the line of his cock, hard already, against Harry's stomach.

"Patience, Eggsy," Harry said quietly as he moved away to press soft kisses down the length of Eggsy's neck. Perhaps a little hypocritical, seeing as he wanted nothing more than to dive in himself.

"Fuck patience," said Eggsy, hissing as Harry bit lightly at his collar bone. "Besides, you're getting on a bit. Reckon you've waited long enough for the best shag of your life."

"Rather presumptuous," Harry trailed his fingers over Eggsy's waist and stomach, tracing the firm muscle through his polo shirt, "don't you think?"

"Nah mate," Eggsy smiled down at him, shaking his hair from his eyes, "I'm just that good." 

Harry pulled back to frown at him. Not the easiest thing to summon up when he was so deliriously happy. "You're really going to call me 'mate' while we're doing this?"

"Only if you call me 'sir,'" Eggsy threw right back, and oh wasn't that something to think about.

"You cheeky - "

"Harry," Eggsy interrupted, "I'm wearing far too many clothes. Help me out, yeah?"

Harry swallowed. "It would be my pleasure." Without waiting for another no doubt smart arse reply, Harry wrapped his fingers around the hem of Eggsy's shirt and tugged it off over his head. Now, Harry had clapped eyes on Eggsy bare chested before, more times than he cared to count actually, during his training and the odd run in at HQ, but his glance had never lingered, because never before had he been allowed to touch. And there he was, skin made gold and smooth by the fire, nipples tight and the left pierced with a small silver bar. Firmly in the camp that now was the time for doing rather than dreaming, Harry took it into his mouth, sucking gently, and delighting in the gasp that fell from Eggsy lips in reply. 

"Didn't waste any time in going for _that,_ did you," Eggsy laughed shakily as Harry continued to tongue at his nipple, "I like that in a bloke. Decisiveness."

"I detest the word 'bloke,'" Harry said. "Now come here and kiss me again, you little minx." 

Eggsy was more than happy to comply, eagerly lowering his head to crush their mouths together. Deciding that he was also rather overdressed, Harry was about to reach for his shirt buttons but Eggsy beat him to it, tugging off his shirt and undershirt before ducking to kiss and nip at Harry's neck, mouth never in the same spot more than one fleeting moment. He had no recollection of either of them removing their trousers but they must have done, because next thing he knew they were both in nothing but their underwear, stretched out in front of the fire, limbs tangled as they pushed and pulled at each other in an only half serious struggle to see who'd gain the upper hand. No more than a game - Harry knew that if he asked it of him, Eggsy would roll over without question. Similarly, he cared so deeply for the boy and was so lost in what they were finally doing that he'd give just about anything he asked. Fools in love indeed.  
It wasn't until he realised that the pair of them were mindlessly grinding up against each other through their underwear like a pair of teenagers that Harry absently wondered if they shouldn't give the logistics some thought.

"What would you like to do?" he managed to ask through a haze of want, Eggsy half on top of him and rubbing himself on Harry's thigh.

"I'll be fucking honest with you Harry," he said through his teeth, "I really hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Mm," Harry slid his hands down gently over the fire-warmed slope of Eggsy's back and under the waistband of his boxers, spreading his palms over his backside and curling his fingers possessively. "Well think about it." 

"Ughh fuck," Eggsy jerked his hips down in response, "I'll tell you one thing though, I ain't gunna last long enough for anything too serious. Shit, Harry..." he groaned when Harry moved one of his hands up to play with his nipple, the other still firmly down his pants. 

"Yes, Eggsy?" said Harry with false innocence, though it was astounding he could get words out at all to be honest - he felt just as wrecked as Eggsy looked. 

"You bastard," Eggsy sat up abruptly, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his cock, which was so thoroughly distracting, Harry almost didn't hear his next words. "This'll 'ave to do for now, because fucked if I'm going all the way upstairs to get those sodding condoms from the bathroom cupboard." 

"How romantic," said Harry, before Eggsy reached out to pull his underwear down too, giving him a swift once over and raising an eyebrow in approval.

"Well," he winked, "maybe next time, eh?" 

Harry didn't answer, because Eggsy finally, _finally,_ took the both of them together in hand, and the fucking glorious drag of Eggsy's cock and callused hand over him took up too much of him for there to be any room left for such superficial things as words. They rolled against each other, fast and desperate and completely off-rhythm, Harry bringing one of his hands down to help, smearing precome between their fingers. His touch urged Eggsy on, biting at his lip, head tipped back in pleasure. The other hand kept hold of Eggsy's hip, telling himself it was to anchor the boy, but in all honesty it was to anchor himself too, fingers digging hard into the hot skin and shifting bone underneath. Eggsy tensed above him, the rolling of his hips becoming shorter and jerky, eyes wide and pupils blown as he leant down over Harry, pressing messy kisses over any part of his face he could reach. He came with a shout of Harry's name and a muddle of profanities, the sound of which accompanied by the warm rush of Eggsy's orgasm set Harry off too.  
In the roaring quiet of the moments just after, Eggsy looked down at him, eyes heavy and hair a mess, still breathing hard and his face and chest flushed pink. Harry wasn't one for making rash or sentimental pronouncements, but he wondered if his life may as well have ended just then, because there could never be another moment more perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this probably only just scrapes an E rating, but better safe than sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter, but it's pretty and fluffy as fuck.

That morning, Eggsy woke up feeling a whole lot more optimistic than he had the day before. To start with, when he blinked himself awake he was met with thin, watery sunlight coming through the window, instead of the dark skies and relentless rain of the past few days. _Result._ It was then he realised that he wasn't in his narrow single bed upstairs, but stretched out in front of the long dead fire in the sitting room, wrapped up in the ugly brown blanket from the back of the sofa. Better still was the fact that Harry's thigh - very naked thigh - was between his own where they'd woven together in their sleep, his arm around Eggsy's middle. If there was a better fucking way to wake up, he couldn't think of it. He hesitantly eased an arm out from underneath himself, numb from having slept on it, wincing when he realised how cold the room was outside their nest of blankets. He could see his breath. 

"Fuck," his elbow clicked as he stretched, and he hastily moved it back under the blanket to keep warm.

"Good morning to you too," he heard Harry mumble behind him, breath hot and words muffled against the back of Eggsy's neck. His voice was low and rough with sleep.

"It's a fucking _brilliant_ morning," he said, head full of the memory of Harry's hand on his cock and his tongue in his mouth, his eyes over every inch of Eggsy’s body. Yeah, he was going to need a repeat performance of that as soon as possible. Which, judging by the interest Eggsy's cock was showing at Harrys proximity, may not be all that long.

"I don't know about that," he felt Harry shift slowly next to him. "My back hurts something rotten. I'm too old to be sleeping on floors, for Christ's sake." 

"Quit your bitchin’," Eggsy shuffled around so he was facing Harry, whose hair was in disarray and eyes scrunched narrow with sleep, and Eggsy couldn't decide which he liked more - Harry warm and sleep-soft, or dressed to kill, elegant and dangerous and sharp as fuck, "and gimme a kiss, old man." Not hanging around for an answer, Eggsy grinned and kissed him, morning breath and all, laughing as he pulled away at Harry's grumbling. "C'mon, get your arse up, and I'll go make some tea. Might throw in a blowie and all, if you're lucky." 

For all his swagger and the lewd promises he made, underneath the overwhelming happiness, was a small flickering of apprehension that Eggsy tried not to acknowledge. He knew there were a lot of folks who'd had it worse than him growing up, but that hardly made his own childhood a fucking picnic by default, and he'd learnt through experience that any time things seemed to be looking up, they'd usually come crashing back down again before he even had the time to get upset about it. He'd been through it time and time again, and by this point it was so deeply ingrained in him that he could already see himself fucking this up before it even happened, a self-fulfilling prophecy or some shit. But he didn't want to dwell on it this time, not while he could simply hold on to Harry and forget the rest of the world existed. Because somehow along the way, Harry Hart had become the centre of his fucking universe, and he refused to let things that might never happen get him down this time. Instead, he resolved to make the most of it, before it somehow went tits up, like everything in his life did eventually, despite his best attempts to keep it on the rails.

~

Harry had never had been one to waste time where it could be avoided. Ordinarily, the thought of a week spent essentially in bed with another person sounded rather nice, but a self-indulgent and ultimately pointless use of one's time. It hadn't taken very long for him to be convinced otherwise. The two of them spent the week largely in bed, or a variation of - having sex in whatever room of the little house took Eggsy's fancy, or curled up together under one of the many hideous blankets the place had to offer, dozing or talking softly, like children hiding and expecting to be discovered at any moment. They learnt each other's bodies in exquisite detail, each scar and freckle and sensitive patch kissed or remarked upon, filed away for later use.

Harry'd had more than his fair share of lovers - he knew full well he'd been handsome in his youth, and he'd aged rather well to boot - even discounting the honeypot missions, and he'd encountered many varied tastes where bedroom antics were concerned. But he could honestly say that that week was made up of some of the most fulfilling sex he'd ever had.  
There was a deliciously drawn out session with the two of them spread out across Harry's bed, his hands clenched in the sheets as Eggsy came untouched, riding his cock. The sight of his lips parted in silent pleasure and the shuddering grip of his body sent Harry over the edge too, deep and aching and seemingly endless. On another occasion, at Eggsy's request, Harry finished over his face, chin and lips spattered as he looked up at Harry with glazed eyes and flushed face. Once, before breakfast and still in their night things, Eggsy had thrown himself down into the armchair, cocky smirk and legs spread, and Harry knelt before him, teasing him with every trick he knew until Eggsy was all but shouting with frustration and coming down Harry's throat. One evening, saying he was determined to do something romantic for Harry, Eggsy had dug out every candle he could find and lit them all in the bathroom, drawing a deep and scaldingly hot bath for the two of them, scented with lavender from that bizarrely stocked bathroom cabinet. He'd started off massaging Harry's back, easing tension away with kisses and strong fingers, until it escalated into something needy and slippery that had them running another bath again straight afterwards to clean up. 

But it wasn't just sex. He'd noticed Eggsy getting more and more twitchy while the rain had confined them to the house, and while it had no doubt begun as boredom and youthful exuberance, it had soon become evident there was something else troubling him. Thankfully, the uneasy tension had dissipated with their game of Snakes and Ladders and all that happened after, but he was still practically climbing the walls with his need to get out of the house, so Harry insisted they talk a walk, perhaps down to the sea, while the weather permitted it.   
The cove they wandered down to was sheltered by towering cliffs, jagged edges made to look softer by lichen and tufts of wiry grass. At the edges of the cove, the waters pounced at the rocks and blew up plumes of spray in muffled crashes, but further in it was almost flat, calming and restful compared to the rest of its thrashing bulk. It felt secretive and isolated, but also as though the whole world was stretched out before their eyes all at once. 

"Please, Harry?"

"Not a chance."

"I'll cook later?"

"No."

"Suck your dick?"

"We both know full well you'll be doing that anyway."

"Yeah, but I'd make it extra good."

"Eggsy, it's the middle of winter, I'm not going in the sodding sea."

"Fine," Eggsy huffed and started picking at his shoe laces, "I'll go by myself."

It really was cold, still and fresh, both sky and sea a vivid blue. Thankfully, Eggsy wasn't pig-headed enough to actually go swimming in the sea, but he'd been determined to get in the water in some capacity. Harry watched, amused, as Eggsy took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans, stumbling across the shifting shingle to the edge of the water. He glanced back at Harry defiantly before stepping into the tiny rolling waves that slid up to his ankles, hissing at the chill of the water and the roll of pebbles underfoot. 

"How is it?" Harry called.

"Fucking lovely, actually," Eggsy called back.

He watched as Eggsy crouched to run his fingers through the cold water, staring at it with childish fascination as it dripped from his hand and down his arm, back into the sea. He was so fucking beautiful, hair tousled by salty air and blinking into the surface of the ocean, that Harry was frustrated all sense of originality had deserted him and he couldn't think of a better word. He thought he knew what is was then that inspired the ancient artists to pick up a chisel or paintbrush or pen - to find their own way of saying it, so that the beauty of the one they loved should never be forgotten, impervious to the ages and changes of the world. Though his boy was not cold marble or flaking paint, he was warmth and softness and light, and fuck Harry was so far gone for him, he didn't think he could ever go back. 

The week slid by in a series of images and sensations - waking up together squashed into the same single bed, cool white walls and the smell of sleep-drenched skin, a view of the coast from the little square window. The sound of the sea and their breathing as they slept, quiet moans in the night and gentle kisses, Eggsy laughing. Wrapped up in the blanket together in front of the fire, on the floor despite Harry's grumbling, and it was almost sickening how bloody cozy they were. He fell a little deeper every day, tracing the lines of Eggsy's body with his eyes and his fingertips, the curve of his jaw, the way his hair fell in his eyes where it had gotten a little too long. Harry drank in every moment of it, his treacherous mind not letting him settle on the idea that this time it might actually be for keeps. Who knew when or if things could ever be like this for them again. Nothing was permanent in their line of work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out a lot more serious than I wanted it to whoops.   
> Aaand now I'm gunna go watch A Single Man because apparently I enjoy pain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys left some really nice comments on the last chapter, so ta very much <3   
> Now watch me ruin it by flinging all this pain at you.

"Yeah I like tea, I'm just saying I could live without it, y'know?" Eggsy insisted, eyeing the ugly floral mug Harry was somehow managing to hold steady in one hand while the other was looped around Eggsy as they sat on the sofa. The tips of his fingers shifted minutely against Eggsy's side, a soothing, stroking motion that he didn't know if Harry realised he was doing. To be honest, he would never have had either of them down as cuddlers, but there you go. 

"I don't think I'd last the day without it," Harry said resolutely, although they both knew that wasn't true - there wasn't always time to stop for tea and a biscuit when you were saving the world. 

"It's hot leaf water with milk," said Eggsy, teasing, "don't sound so nice put like that, does it?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, taking a deliberate sip of tea. "I'm not sure you can be trusted anymore, after a statement like that. I'll have you know, a good cup of tea, or even a bad one," he lifted his mug in acknowledgement, "is the solution to many of life's problems."

"Whatever mate," Eggsy wriggled out of his grasp and stood up. "I'm goin' to the loo, give you some alone time with your tea." He bent to press a quick kiss to Harry's lips - unsurprisingly, he tasted like PG Tips - before hopping up the stairs. 

When he came back down, Harry was standing by the window, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other holding his phone to his ear. The empty mug from his tea was abandoned on the windowsill, where it clashed horribly with the also ugly floral curtains - it seemed a bit of a theme in that house. Harry was staring out of the window, eyes flicking over the grey day without really taking it in as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. He was wearing his glasses, daylight catching and making the lenses white, and it wasn't until then Eggsy registered that Harry hadn’t ben wearing them the entire time they'd been in the safehouse - there'd been no need. He leant against the banister, and waited for Harry to finish. 

"You're quite sure? I see. Well, in that case, see you tomorrow. Yes. Oh sod off. Goodbye." He hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket, turning to see Eggsy looking at him expectantly. 

Harry cleared his throat. "Merlin says we're in the clear for now. We should leave today, ideally, and be ready to work first thing in the morning." He spoke briskly, all business, but there was a slight hesitation in the way he moved, a reluctance Eggsy found unnerving 

"Oh." No matter how impatient he might have been for this day to come, Eggsy was actually sort of sad they had to leave, now it came to it. Don't get him wrong or nothin', it would be nice to see civilisation again, his family, and Rox, but he'd gotten sort of attached to the house, to the idea of their own little world it represented. And being so close to the sea... But he'd known from the start they wouldn't be staying long. "Ah well, we couldn't go on like this forever,” he shot Harry a sad smile. “Had to end sometime, right?" 

It was like a fucking switch had been flicked. Harry was good at keeping emotion off his face, scarily good, but even he wasn't quick enough to stop the pained look that creased his features at Eggsy's question. "Yes. Of course. Quite right." That briskness was back, the hesitancy that jarred with his usual unthinking elegance as he looked away from Eggsy and to the floor. He swallowed, face tense and uncomfortable, and even then Eggsy was briefly distracted by the bob of his throat. "We'd best get packing." 

And it hit him then, with the painful clarity he knew it would from the start, why Harry was acting funny. He didn't want Eggsy, not for keeps. That was why he was suddenly so discordant - for Harry, going back to London marked the end of their… whatever it was they’d been doing. The mere mention of them going back home had him uneasy, like he was already wondering how to break it to him politely that things had to end between them, because, if nothing else, he was a gentleman to the end. Well, Eggsy would save him the fucking trouble. "This last week's been... well, fucking amazing, to be honest."

"Eggsy - "

"Please Harry, just don't, yeah?" He had to speak first, he didn't want to see the inevitable pity in Harry's eyes when he tried to let Eggsy down gently. He'd fucking keep his pride through this, show him he was capable of being mature about it, even though every word he dragged out was painful and made him want to punch shit. "You don't have to say anything. It'll be easier on us both to just leave it, yeah? We can - we can go back to how we were before we came here." _You might be able to Harry, but I know I fucking can't._

Harry blinked at him before nodding once, jaw tight. "If that's what you want." 

He was unable to stop his own face falling, just for a second, at how easily Harry could let him go, before he pulled it back together. "Right. I'll err... I'll go get started then." Without quite meeting Harry's eyes, he turned and jogged back up the stairs, scooping things up from where'd he'd left them around his room, and dropping them into his bag. 

_No it fucking wasn't what he wanted._ It was the last thing he wanted. But it was obviously how Harry wanted things to go, so... Eggsy was an adult, he'd had his fair share of casual sex, and Harry would just be another name on the list. It was fine. He'd get over it.  
But that didn't stop it hurting like a bitch. Of course Harry'd just been humouring him, probably some kind of extreme distraction to keep Eggsy entertained and stop his moaning about being stuck in the safehouse; he hadn’t exactly kept his thoughts on being stranded there to himself. With everything that was said and done between them during their stay, it’d been easy to think it would last, but if he was honest, the thought that he wasn’t good enough for Harry had been skulking in the back of his mind since day one. And Harry'd never say it out loud, perfect fucking gentleman that he was - you could take the boy out of the council estate, but you couldn't take the council estate out of the boy. Harry deserved pure class, and Eggsy would always be a bit of rough, fancy suit and big bank account or not. It wasn't self-pity or nothing, he knew his own worth and he was damn proud of what he'd made of himself, but when it came to Harry... He'd be fine. Harry would never have screwed him over like that on purpose, Eggsy knew he meant a lot to Harry and shit, but just not in the way he wanted, apparently. It was his own fault for dreaming too big and getting in too deep, he should’ve fucking learnt by now that that was just how things went for him. They could be friends again. He'd just have to bite his tongue and pretend he wasn't arse over teakettle in love with Harry fucking Hart, and go on as if nothing ever happened. 

~

If Harry'd thought it would be simple to get back into routine after arriving home from the safehouse, the routine that had altered very little in the past ten years or so, he was wrong. It was the fifth day since he and Eggsy had been permitted to return to work, and Harry was fucking miserable. He was excellent at distracting himself of course, he'd had a great deal of practice, but it still seeped through the cracks, in the odd spare moment when he let his guard down or had nothing else to think about. Such a moment as now, when he'd woken up far more early than was necessary, unable to get back to sleep, and made thoroughly irritable by the fact because he never was and never would be a morning person. He got up early out of habit because his job required it, but this was ridiculous. The sky was just barely starting to get light, and he was already up and dressed, standing at his kitchen counter and staring into a cup of tea. As he'd told Eggsy, many of life's problems could be improved upon or momentarily forgotten with a cup of tea, but unfortunately this wasn't one of them. 

"Bugger."

That about summed it up.

He should have _known._ Of course it couldn't have continued outside the walls of the safehouse, for innumerable reasons, and to entertain the thought of it lasting any longer... he'd been stupid. It might as well have been a dream. It had crossed his mind that Eggsy'd been joking when he said things between them couldn't have lasted forever - he may well have said something similar himself to lighten the odd moment of sadness at the thought of leaving the little house on the coast - but he'd seen Eggsy's expression shut down the moment Harry'd been guileless enough to let hope show on his face. Sentimental old fool. And Harry wasn't one for sentiment - he hadn't done anything he'd count as sentimental for at least a decade, but it had begun with increasing regularity since the very day Eggsy had phoned him from the police station.  
Eggsy had just been bored - he'd complained about being so numerous times, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise - and doing whatever he could to amuse himself and pass the time. Which just so happened to be Harry. By no means was Eggsy malicious, there was no question that he hadn't intended to hurt Harry in the process, but with all their closeness over the past few weeks, Harry had let himself get his hopes up. Which was entirely his own fault - naturally Eggsy wouldn't want to be saddled with Harry on a permanent basis; old and damaged goods that he was. 

_No._

Harry put a stop to that line of thinking swiftly and brutally. He made himself stand straighter, adjust his already perfect tie. Self-pity wasn’t a good look on anyone, and damned if he was going to succumb to it now. At least on the outside, he must remain perfect. The inside, he could work on later. He ended up tipping the cold tea down the sink and heading to work early. 

"You really have ballsed things up this time, old boy."

It was easy enough to just press on while he was working, missions that took him out of HQ, meetings with Merlin or Arthur, or even just getting through some of the dense paperwork in his office was enough to keep him out of his own head for the most part. The only moments of discomfort were those when his and Eggsy's paths happened to cross, in the corridor between their offices, or on the way to check in with Merlin. Eggsy would visibly flinch and give him a somewhat crumpled smile, which Harry would return with a nod, and the both of them hurried off awkwardly in opposite directions. 

When Eggsy had uttered those damned miserable words - "we can go back to how we were before" - Harry had been far from happy at the notion. But he never could have imagined this, this stilted, limping thing they were dragging themselves through. He'd take their old, easy friendship over the disaster they were now in a heartbeat, despite knowing now that he craved more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets better, I promise. I’m not strong enough to angst for too long.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun story - I wrote a lot of this chapter before I even started posting this fic. Fingers crossed it still makes sense.

Everything had gone to shit and Eggsy was not fucking happy about it. He should've been used to it by now, the familiar pattern his life seemed to fall back in to despite his best efforts. Okay, on paper, it probably didn't look as bad as some of the shitty times he'd spent stuck under Dean's thumb or whatever, but it felt just as impossible. And his crappy past had dulled with time, but this new shitshow was still fresh and painful and far from over. It wasn't just like the thing with Harry at the safehuse had never happened, it was like _everything_ between them had never happened, and they were reduced to the level of slightly awkward acquaintances. Harry seemed completely indifferent, though Eggsy's guess was as good as anybody's, and a tiny, bitter part of him hoped Harry was at least a fraction as torn up about it as he was. The days seemed full of time he just didn't know what to do with, and he ended up splitting it three main ways - either at work, sad as fuck, or wanking. Honestly, quite often it was two of these at a time, or occasionally all three at once. Those days were the worst. 

It was on one such day, after a meeting with all the knights present - or at least their holograms - in which the two of them had neatly avoided looking at each other, that Merlin had discreetly pulled him aside, saying he didn't look well and to get his arse home while it wasn't necessary for him to be there. He'd put up a token grumble, but to be honest he didn't much want to be there either, so he gave in pretty quick. And since he was neither at work nor wanking, that left sad as fuck as the only available option. Fucking brilliant.   
He ended up back at home, not able to think of anywhere better to be. Perhaps he'd take Merlin's advice and actually try to get some shuteye, though it seemed pretty unlikely. Shutting the front door behind him, he wasn't greeted by the silence of an empty house like he'd expected, but the sound of cupboards opening and closing and shuffling about in the kitchen. Oh, right. His mum's day off. Although Eggsy had insisted that there was no need for her to work, after a brief period of settling in to their new home and life without Dean, Michelle had quickly gotten bored staying in the house. There was his sister of course, and some of her old friends she met up with now and then, but it wasn't enough. So she'd gotten herself a job. She worked at the hospital, something in admin and only part time, but enough to keep her happy and busy and more herself than Eggsy had seen for years. But Thursday was her day off, and the one she would religiously go to Tesco, despite Eggsy saying they could get their weekly shop delivered. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to her or not, but she would have heard him let himself in, so there was no avoiding it. She was just putting the last of the shopping away when he trudged into the kitchen. 

"Hey babe," she straightened up and shut the fridge door, "you're home early." She walked over to ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. It didn't fucking matter that he was well into his twenties, it still made him feel a tiny bit better. JB lifted his head to make sure Eggsy was home safe, but he didn't get up, instead snuffling further down into his dog bed. 

"Yeah, they err..." he trailed off, ducking into one of the cupboards under the pretext of finding some crisps. "Slow day."

"Okay."

He grabbed a packet at random and turned to give her a smile. They'd had a lot of practice at putting on a brave face for each other, over the years. Which was maybe why she saw straight through his. His smile faltered when he saw the frown she was looking him over with. "What?"

"Are you alright?"

"Course I am mum," he turned the smile up a notch. "Why?"

"You hate that flavour," she glanced down at the packet of ready salted crisps in his hand, "always say it's boring."

He blinked at the offending packet. "Shit." He spun back around to dig through the cupboard, determinedly avoiding looking at his mum.

"Eggsy babe, what's the matter?"

"Nothin's the matter mum," his voice rang hollow from the depths of the cupboard as he pawed absently through the crisp packets, searching for one that wasn't red. "I'm fine."

"Eggsy, I know you can't tell me anything much about work, but... but something tells me this ain't about work. Am I right?"

Eggsy stilled, clutching a packet of cheese and onion, and realised there was no fucking way he could put her off now. "... Maybe."

"Alright then," she said decisively. "Now get out of the sodding cupboard, and come and sit your arse over here and tell me about it, yeah?"

He sighed and backed out of the cupboard. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Oi, watch your mouth," his mum said as she put the kettle on and pulled out two mugs.

"Mum, I don't really want - "

"Tea fixes everything, Eggsy," she said matter-of-factly. "Or it makes us feel like we can deal with it better, anyway. Now sit down," she jerked a thumb at the kitchen table.

He did as he was told, slumping down into one of the kitchen chairs, defeated, and feeling a little bit like he was twelve again. He picked moodily at the crisps as his mum sloshed milk into the tea. There was nothing for it; she wouldn't let it drop until he'd given her something, and it could hardly make matters worse. Fuck. 

"There we go sweetheart," she set a mug down in front of him, and sat in the chair opposite. "Now," she cradled her own mug between her hands, bright pink nail tapping the china, "what the bloody hell's had you in such mood lately?" 

Eggsy straightened up, closed his hands around the mug for something to occupy them with. "I can't believe I'm twenty fucking five and about to have this chat with my mum," he muttered and looked down at the tabletop, feeling utterly juvenile, "but there's... someone."

"Oh. I wondered," she said evenly, and took a sip of her tea. "Well, what's the problem then?"

He shook his head. No going back now. He might as well say out loud what he was avoiding saying to himself. "I really like 'em mum - like proper, long term, that's it for me, sort of like 'em - but I don't have the first fucking idea what to do about it."

"It ain't like you to be shy babe," she said with a half-smile. "Ask 'em out, surely."

"I can't - it ain't like that mum. After we - " fuck, how was he meant to explain. He'd really rather not get graphic - waxing lyrical about Harry's dick was not going to do anyone any favours here. "I think they had something more short term in mind."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you've already - "

"Yeah."

"Right."

"But I reckon that's all they want. Or wanted." Past tense. He still couldn't quite grasp that it was all done with already, before they'd even really got going. "A bit of fun until we realised it wasn't gunna work out."

"And she actually said that?"

Fuck it, Eggsy thought, two birds with one stone and all. "It's 'he' actually." That would have to be enough though – no fucking way was he ready to tell her it was Harry of all people who had him so messed up. There was only so much his mum could forgive Harry for.

"Oh." She paused for a moment in mild surprise. His mum had caught him with both birds and blokes before, so it wasn't like it was anything new, but it was obvious that it threw her a bit all the same. "Right, well did _he_ say that to you?" she said firmly, "because let me tell you I've done my fair share of jumping to conclusions when it comes to blokes and what they want, and more often than not it comes back to bite you in the arse."

"Nah he didn't say it," said Eggsy, touched by his mum's flare of protectiveness for him, "but he didn't have to." He thought back to the discomfort that had creased Harry's face before he could rein it in, the uncharacteristic awkwardness that had come over him at the prospect of them continuing their fling outside the walls of the safehouse. "I know him, see. He wouldn't settle with someone like me - "

"Gary Lee Unwin - " Oh shit full name, she meant business - "don't you dare talk about yourself like that." Her eyes flashed in anger and she gripped her mug so hard Eggsy was worried it'd crack. "I didn't raise you to think so little of yourself. I never - "

"Mum," he interrupted before she could go into full on defence mode over her baby boy and a case of what she wrongly assumed was low self-esteem. "Jesus, calm down yeah? It's okay, fucking hell."

"Language," she said loftily, and took a small sip of tea.

"Look, that's not the problem. I'm not on a downer or some shit, I'm proud of myself, and all this," he waved to the house. "We're just... really different people, from different pasts, who want different things." It was what he'd been telling himself, although it sounded cliché and awful and so, so final. "I reckon I was just a bit of fun for him, is all, to pass the time. And I want more than just fun, you get me?"

She pursed her lips, and looked at him long and hard. "Well then, you'll just have to help him see sense, won't you babe," she said eventually, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If I know you at all, it won't be long before he opens his eyes and realises what he's missing. You ain't a quitter, Eggsy Unwin." It was such a mum thing to say, well meant and useless, but it made him feel sort of better all the same.

"I - thanks mum."

"No worries darlin'," she smiled fondly and stood up. "I'm going to go check on your sister. Make yourself useful and start getting things together for dinner, yeah?"

~

He'd slept a bit easier that night after the chat with his mum, and went into work the next morning feeling lighter than he had done since he'd got back from the safehouse. But by the end of the day, although he hadn't even seen Harry, hopelessness was starting to creep up on him again. Luckily, his mum wasn't the only perceptive woman in his life, and Roxy had taken him firmly by the elbow and steered him into her office.

"Right Unwin," she said as soon as she'd deposited him in her desk chair and shut the door, "I've had enough of looking at your mopey face all day every day. Spill."

"I - " he blinked at her, not quite on board her train of thought. "What?"

"Eggsy, don't pretend to be unobservant, it doesn't suit you," she crossed her arms. "There's something troubling you, and for a sodding spy you're doing a pretty shit job of hiding it."

"Oh fuck," Eggsy buried his face in his hands and wondered how many more talks about his feelings he was going to have endure this week, "not you too." 

Roxy frowned. "What?"

"I'm fine, alright?" he sat up straighter and tried to look convincingly put together, in a last ditch attempt to persuade her everything was okay. It didn't work.

"Pull the other one," Roxy rolled her eyes before her face softened into that of his best friend, rather than the sharp, hard-nosed agent she appeared to be most of the time. "Look Eggsy, I'm not going to interrogate you or anything so drastic, but I'm worried about you. You're not yourself."

"Says who?" he said, unable to stop the little curl of defensiveness that rose up his back.

"Everybody, Eggsy. Even Arthur's mentioned it, and it's only a matter of time before she calls you out. I very much doubt you'd rather talk to her about it than me," she shrugged and smiled sweetly. "Your choice." 

"You lot are so fucking nosy," he grumbled, but he was a little touched by their concern, honestly. Whatever happened to spies being discreet though, Jesus. Roxy was as subtle as a bulldozer when she wanted to be. "Fine," he relented. "But this don't leave the room, yeah?"

"Naturally," she said, and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, legs crossed neatly at the ankle, and waiting for him to speak. 

"Right," he fumbled for a good place to start. At least with Rox he could outright admit it was Harry giving him grief, and she knew that he'd been stuck in a safehouse and not on an overlong business trip, like he'd had to tell his mum. Fuck it, might as well cut to the chase. "So, Harry and I were fucking while we were in the safehouse."

"Ah," Roxy barely missed a beat. "I assumed something of the sort had happened. I wasn't quite certain though." Her thoughtful frown shifted into mildly offended look before asking, “why didn’t you tell me?”

He ignored that last part in favour of the more pressing issue. "How the fuck could you possibly know that?"

"You've both been out of sorts since you got back, distracted and irritable and avoiding each other like the plague," she shrugged. "Neither of you have exactly been subtle, Eggsy." 

"Right," he tried not to look hurt over her dismissal of his acting skills. She was right, anyway. 

"I'm afraid I still don't see how that's a problem though," her brow creased in concern. "What happened, exactly?"

"Things were good," he said, although 'good' was the understatement of the fucking century - waking up and falling asleep wrapped around each other under those ugly brown blankets, their fingers laced together and Harry's lips pressed to the back of his neck, hours spent in the overwarm kitchen with Harry attempting to teach him how to make puddings, the soft look on Harry's face when Eggsy insisted on going in the sea, the feel of Harry's body underneath his own, the sense that time had stood still just for them. He cleared his throat. "Things were good," he repeated, "until Merlin told us we could come home. Then Harry went all weird and quiet, and he looked so uncomfortable Rox - and you know the bloke, he can hide his feelings better than any of us, but it was obvious - like he didn't know how to tell me things couldn't carry on when we left the safehouse. He didn't want me for anything more than a shag to pass the time and to stop me whinging about being bored." He took a deep breath. "Which is where the fucking problem is, because I sort of... wanted things to carry on."

Roxy said nothing. Eggsy said nothing. The minimalist clock on the wall ticked loudly, and the muffled shouts of a playful argument between Bors and Lamorak drifted along the corridor from the latter's office. Not able to bear her silence anymore, he looked up to see her frowning hard at the tabletop. "Err, Rox?" Nothing. "This is about the time I was hoping you'd jump in with advice or some shit." 

"Eggsy," she said, looking up but still frowning, "there are several things about that story that make absolutely no sense."

"Err, right. How so?"

"Firstly," she said, so brisk and no nonsense that Arthur would no doubt be proud of her, "as you correctly pointed out, Galahad is exceedingly competent at concealing his emotions, which begs the questions that if he is as unaffected by the time you two spent shacked up in the west country as you seem to believe, why has he constantly looked on the edge of punching something ever since you've gotten back?"

"'Cos I make him feel awkward? I don’t know..."

"Secondly," she cut across him, "from what you said, I assume Harry never explicitly stated that he wanted things between you to end. That's just the conclusion you arrived at, yes?"

"Well yes, I mean no, he didn't actually say it, but - "

“Thirdly, do you really think so little of Harry? That he’d toss you aside like that?”

“Nah, of course not, but – “

"Lastly, if this is making you so bloody miserable, then why on earth are you sitting here talking to me about it when you should be talking to Harry?"

"I... don't know."

She nodded. "I thought as much." She stood up, and held out a hand to him. "What are you waiting for then?"

Lost for words, he took her hand and let her pull him up, feeling like the solution she’d laid before him seemed entirely too simple. "I - thanks?"

"You're welcome," she grinned and gripped his shoulder. "Now go and fucking talk to him you idiot."

Feeling like a little bit of a twat, but a hundred times better than he had done for days, Eggsy left HQ as quick as he could. Which was pretty fucking quick, y'know, spy shit and all. Roxy was right, as ever. He might have jumped to one or two conclusions, and even if he hadn't it wouldn't have been like him to let Harry off that easy. Eggsy was going to find him, and make him hear him out, at least. Then maybe he could get on with shit, even if Harry's answer wasn't the one he wanted it to be. He could do this. He saved the world for a living, how hard could it be?  
Since he had to walk right past his own front door to get to Harry's place, he stopped off to let his mum know he'd be out a little longer. He needn't have bothered though - it didn't look like there was anyone home. 

"Mum?" he called out, just to be sure, not bothering to shut the front door behind him. No answer. The house was silent. He still wasn't used to the way you couldn't hear what the neighbours were up to here, with thicker walls and considerably fewer shouting matches. All the lights were off too... His mum usually left one or two on, the hallway ones at least, when there was no one home in the evenings. Old habits. 

He'd just decided that she must have simply forgotten to switch the lights on before she left the house, in a hurry or whatever, when something hit him, hard and decisive, on the back of the head. He had enough presence of mind to register that he'd left the fucking door open, fucking rookie mistake, before he fell, and was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eastenders music*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an episode of Downton Abbey with the bloke who plays Poodle in it. Who knew.

"Harry?"

"Merlin?" 

Harry didn't need to look up from the papers he had spread over the table to know that Merlin would be giving him _that_ look, the one he reserved for when he'd decided Harry had done/was about to do something rather stupid. After the full meeting in the dining room, he'd watched as Roxy had taken Eggsy firmly by the arm and steered him out, giving them a decent head start before relocating to his own office, ignoring the part curious, part exasperated look Arthur had given him when he bid her good day. The fewer people the two of them managed to drag into their little upset, the better. Except it could only last so long, and it was considerably more than a little upset, on his end at least. 

"Oh, don't be so bloody difficult," Merlin sighed as he moved from where he leant in the doorway, closing Harry's office door behind him to give them a semblance of privacy, and sitting in the chair on the other side of his desk. 

"I - " Harry almost denied it, before he caught the look Merlin was giving him, and knew it would only be so long before Merlin did or said something that would make him give it up. Might as well save them both the time. "Fine," he pushed aside the papers he was pretending to look at, "what is it?"

"You're both moping, don't think I haven't noticed," Merlin, typically, got straight to the point. "Actually, everyone's noticed, and it's starting to wear rather thin," he popped the lid of the biscuit tin on Harry's desk, and helped himself to a ginger nut. "If I have to get through one more day of the entirety of the tech staff gossiping about it, I swear to God, I'm locking you both in that nasty cupboard next to Geraint's office until you sort it out."

"What an offer," said Harry flatly, fighting to keep his annoyance that Merlin seemed to know everything, as per usual, under wraps, "though I very much doubt he'd welcome that."

"Harry," Merlin's stern face slipped briefly, creasing with genuine worry, "what the hell is going on here? I know something's off with the pair of you, but what on earth's happened to throw you so off kilter? It's not like you."

Harry took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of this nose. "We had an... altercation of sorts, while we were away," he said eventually. "Things are a little strained, I agree," he heard Merlin snort at the massive understatement, "but we'll get past it soon enough. He's too sensible to let it get to him, no matter what anyone else might think."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"it's obviously getting to you too."

"I assure you Merlin, I've weathered worse." Had he? He couldn't seem to recall a specific example. 

"You don't want to talk about it, fine, you can't say I didn't try," he stood up to go. "But do me a favour and sort it out. I won't have the both of you ballsing up missions because you're pining over each other you damn love-struck idiots." 

Harry blinked at him. He had no real call to be surprised at Merlin having sussed him out - the man knew everything after all, and despite his outward disinclination to it, he was a terrible gossip. The way he’d said ‘each other’ though? Surely not…

"The pair of you are of no use to me like this," were his parting words, which of course really meant he was worried about them. 

~

When Eggsy came to, one of the first things he managed to grasp was that he was still in his own house. So no kidnapping then, that was good. But some apparently random bloke had broken in and smashed him across the head before tying him to a chair, which wasn't so good, whichever way you looked at it. He just hoped his mum and sister really were out of the house, and this knobhead hadn't been stupid enough to hurt them. 

"You're awake," came a voice from the doorway of the living room, and Eggsy jerked to try and look behind him, but he was zip tied securely to the chair, and it quickly became clear he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a minute or two. Fuck. 

"Looks like it," he said evenly, though he was a bit groggy and his head throbbed, going with the default option of playing it cool until he could figure out what to do about this mess, "no thanks to you, mate." 

"Mm," the man hummed in agreement, his footsteps even across the floor until he came to a halt a little way behind Eggsy, still right in his blind spot, the fucker. "You went down surprisingly easy, I have to say." He was American, which threw Eggsy a little - he hadn't been to the states in months, who the fuck had he managed to piss off across the pond?

"Y’know, it's really rude to just walk into someone's house without permission bruv." Just keep him talking...

"You left the door open," the man said lightly, "that was enough of an invitation for me."

"Maybe, but I'm pretty sure I didn't invite you to lamp me one on the head," it hurt like a bitch and all. He could feel blood drying sticky where it had dripped on his neck. "Can I ask what that was for?"

"You killed my wife."

... well that was surprisingly to the point. It was too early to say whether the man's singlemindedness would work to his favour or not. It might prove harder to distract him, but he could maybe buy himself more time if he could keep him talking on the subject. He tested the tightness of the ties on his wrists. 

"Don't remember, huh?" The man said, taking Eggsy's silence for confusion. To be honest, he didn't. But shit, he may well have done; they had the odd inevitable civilian casualty which obviously fucking sucked, but still, Kingsman cleanup was usually spotless. Even if he was somehow to blame, there was no way this guy could trace it back to them. 

"I'll jog your memory then," the man said, when Eggsy didn't answer, slowly stepping around so he was standing in front of him. He looked unremarkable, in his late thirties, averagely dressed, average build, average everything. But Eggsy was experienced enough by now not to judge him by that alone. He belatedly realised he wasn't wearing his glasses, so he couldn't transmit any of this to HQ or alert them to his situation. And since he was still in his own home, if Merlin should happen to pull up his tracker for whatever reason, nothing would look out of the ordinary. He could get out of the ties, but it would take time he wasn't sure he had. Fuck, he was running out of options here.

"My name is Clive Summers," he said.

Summers... he knew that name. Summers. Shit, it must have been something important for this nutcase to - oh fuck.

"Ah, so you do remember," said the man when Eggsy let the look of recognition cross his face.

"Yeah." The CIA agent he and Harry had accidentally taken out in Spain, believing her to be part of the power hungry family they'd been trying to neutralise. She'd had a husband, he remembered seeing it in her file. Bollocks. 

"That's all you have to say about it," the man laughed softly and shook his head. "Fucking typical. You Brits and your repression. Do you even have feelings?"

Eggsy was about to reply that yes he fucking did thank you very much, before it registered that this wasn't just some bloke on the street trying to rile him up, it was an emotionally unstable and very possibly dangerous man who had him sodding zip tied to a chair. Professionalism, Eggsy. "I remember her," he said instead, still working on his wrists. "She was good at her job."

Summers laughed again, bitterly. "Yeah, you got that right. Good enough that I never even knew about it. My own wife... I had my suspicions. I knew she was in some law enforcement office somewhere, she told me she couldn't tell me outright, and she wasn't allowed to talk about it much. I was dumb enough to trust her." He fell silent after that, looking at the scattering of framed photographs Eggsy's mum had set up on the dresser. 

"That's love mate," said Eggsy, though it might not have been the most sensible thing to say, to prompt him back into talking. He forcefully kept his own sorry love life out of his thoughts. Now wasn't the time. 

The man turned sharply, narrowing his eyes. "Yes. Yes it is. They were kind enough to let me know she'd died in the line of duty," he drawled, "but when I pressed for details, they wouldn't budge. Ain't that crazy?" He smiled brightly, dangerous and angry. "That a man can't even know how his own wife died?"

"It is," said Eggsy, when it was clear Summers expected an answer. Not that he acknowledged it. He twisted his hands for as much freedom as he could get, angling to reach for his watch.

"Not knowing the truth of it started to get me to me a little. It'd been bugging me for years, but after she died, it got even worse. I went a little off the handle, I'll admit," he said, with an elegant shrug. "So I did a little digging. I'd been watching her for years, you understand, I'd picked up a thing or two. And I found you." 

"That's no mean feat bruv," said Eggsy, truthfully. "We ain't exactly easy to pin down." 

Summers ignored him, apparently flattery wasn't his weakness. "Nice pictures," he jerked his head at the photographs. "You're lucky they were already out when I got here. I considered taking your family, since you took mine. But that would make me no better than you."

For the first time since he'd woken, Eggsy felt a real, cold roll of anger. He could handle whatever the bloke threw at him, but if he was trying to drag his mum and sister into his misplaced revenge plot too... well that was just not on. "Look mate, she knew what she was doing," he tried. "She was at the top of her game, fooled us all, yeah? We had no idea she was CIA, she was in so deep," he said. "And I know this ain't easy to hear, but it was a risk she knew she was taking." 

"No," Summers said abruptly, grabbing some ugly china ornament belonging to his mum and smashing it across the side of Eggsy's face in anger. It thudded against his temple and shattered across his cheekbone, his head throbbing with a fresh wave of pain and he hissed as blood welled on his cheek, unable to do much more for the time being. "You don't get to talk about her."

Fuck. That was it, this bloke was going down... As soon as he got his hands free, that was. For now Summers seemed distracted again, pacing back and forth, agitated, trying to rein himself back in. Eggsy looked at the broken and bloodied pieces of what was once a china milkmaid on the floor. His mum was not going to be fucking impressed about that. It'd belonged to her mum. 

"I was going to drag this out," said the man, rounding on Eggsy, eyes wide and angry. "But I really don't think I have the patience." He pulled a gun out of his jacket. Shit. Eggsy's eyes flicked to the clock on the mantelpiece. Come on... 

He was starting to feel genuine threads of panic creeping through him when he heard the unmistakable whoosh of a dart flying across the room, Summers buckling instantly when it hit his neck, falling hard to the carpet.

Eggsy slumped back in the chair in relief. "Took your fucking time, Rox."

"I'd just run a bath," she said flatly before moving across the room, delicately side-stepping the smashed china, to make sure Summers was unconscious, "it'll be fucking cold now. You owe me."

"I know," said Eggsy, flexing his newly freed wrists and bending to free his ankles. "I never thought I'd actually need that update on the watches," he flicked the tiny switch on the side that had alerted Roxy to his need for backup back to neutral, "remind me to thank Merlin for that later."

"I told you you'd need to use it before I did," she said smugly, turning to face him once it was clear Summers wasn't going anywhere. It had been a fairly recent addition to their tech - all the agents had been paired off and their watches synced, so that when one agent flicked the appropriate switch, an alert would be triggered on the corresponding agent's watch, requesting them as back up. It couldn't work every time - like if one of the agents was in another country or whatever, but they could still let HQ know and get assistance that way. "I believe you owe me dinner."

"Right you are Rox," he stood and flexed his sore arms, "whatever you fancy. Help me get this prick to HQ, would you?" Despite his words, and the fact that he’d taken Eggsy hostage and smashed a ugly decorative milkmaid over his face, he couldn't help but feel a bit bad for the bloke. He had lost his wife to their hands, that much was true. He wouldn't have said it was their fault exactly - Agent Summers had known full well the risks she had been taking when she went undercover - but she'd probably still be alive, if it weren't for Kingsman involvement. That said, if someone had killed or even hurt his family, Eggsy would be all up in their business, no doubt about that. Was what Summers had done really any different? If someone ever got hold of his mum, or Rox, or... Harry, he'd make fucking sure they knew he wasn't happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Eggsy probably could have gotten himself free somehow, but where's the fun in that. Probably only one more chapter to go. Then maybe I'll add more to the horse riding AU, like I promised I would flipping ages ago.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this yesterday because Valentine’s Day and all, but it just didn’t happen.  
> I'm not even joking, Pomp and Circumstance by Elgar - that song that plays while the heads are blowing up - came on the radio while I was writing this. Fucking spectacular.  
> Also my local radio station just told me that Merlin's coming back to Tintagel. It knows.

Harry was, to put it bluntly, in a right fucking state. 

He was currently on his way back to the shop, even though he'd only just gotten home, and although he'd had plenty of practice at maintaining a gentlemanly composure while in a terrible rush, he was finding it pretty fucking hard not to just drop all pretence and make a run for it. As soon as he'd shut his front door, Merlin's voice had come over the glasses com with deliberate calm, informing him that Eggsy had been sought out and taken unawares by a man who was apparently the husband of Agent Summers, the CIA agent he and Eggsy had mistakenly taken down in Spain. From the sound of it, he'd been in rather hot water before he'd activated his watch and Lancelot had stepped in. Merlin had then started grumbling on how it was an incredible security breach and what the fuck were they meant to do about it, but ludicrously, that didn't seem quite so important. On paper, Harry had only been called back into HQ for further debriefing, due to his prior involvement in the case, but, as he grudgingly admitted to himself, his haste was borne mostly of wanting to see Eggsy. No matter how much their encounters had agitated him of late, there was nothing he could do to hold back the need to ensure he was safe, and last he'd heard, he’d been held captive in his own home and was sporting several head injuries. Merlin had said he was fine, it was nothing serious, but... he just really fucking needed to see Eggsy. 

Harry strode through the shop, exchanging the barest of courtesies with whoever happened to be behind the counter, heading for the shuttle to the house. He was just stepping in when someone called for him to hold the door, which of course he would, but honestly, they could have picked a better time to - he turned, to see Eggsy jogging towards him. Eggsy, with a cut on his cheek cleaned and held closed with butterfly stitches, blood on his collar and an uncertain look on his face. _Bugger._ The unease he'd been feeling whenever they crossed paths of late was displaced by a barrage of other things - anger, worry, affection, guilt, relief, and dare he say it, love. Dangerous waters, Hart.

"Oh," Eggsy eyed him warily as he drew closer and realised who it was holding the shuttle for him, "hi Harry." He was still mostly wearing his suit, but with one of his own loud jackets thrown on over his shirt, and a matching hat just as ridiculous.

"Eggsy," Harry nodded, quelling the urge to physically check the stitches on Eggsy's face himself as he motioned for him to step in, "after you."

"Err, thanks," Eggsy ducked his head and stepped through the door. 

Those first few minutes passed agonisingly slowly. They sat on opposite sides of the shuttle, far out of each other's personal space and carefully avoiding eye contact. It was miles away from the first time they'd made the journey together, Eggsy at his side practically buzzing with excitement and taking in every minute detail Harry could offer him with wide eyes. He wouldn't stoop so far as pretending to check his phone - they both knew there was little that could be more important than what they were currently engaged in, though that didn't stop Eggsy from faffing about with his. Following one of his covert glances at Eggsy's fingers tapping away at the screen, Harry's head cleared enough to recall his chat with Merlin earlier that evening in his office. Safe in the knowledge that Eggsy was indeed unharmed for the most part, and knowing things could have ended a great deal worse, Harry was forced to acknowledge that it was perhaps time for him to stop being so uptight and bloody talk to the boy. When he looked up, it was to see Eggsy already watching him, a similar look of determination on his face.

"Harry - "

"Eggsy - "

They spoke at the same time.

"I apologise," Harry said, "what were you saying?"

"Nah," Eggsy said with a flicker of a smile, "you first."

"Are you quite alright?" he gestured to Eggsy's face. "Merlin told me what happened of course, but..." he wanted to hear Eggsy's account of the evening. 

"The bastard smashed an ornament on my face," Eggsy looked far too amused by the fact. "I mean, he knocked me out and pulled a gun and shit too, but the ornament's a better story, innit."

"Shit. Agent Summers' husband?" he confirmed.

"Yeah."

"Eggsy, I - I'm sorry," he hoped his sincerity made up for his uncharacteristic lack of eloquence, "it could have been either of us that fired the shot that killed her. I can’t think why it was you he singled out to come after."

"Don't worry about it," Eggsy shrugged. "It's done with now, yeah? Not important." 

"If you say so." It would all be dragged up again shortly in the debriefing anyway, though he suspected in rather more clinical terms. 

Another minute of awkward silence passed in which Harry busied himself checking his watch - the journey had never felt so long - before he remembered that Eggsy had had something to say.

"I apologise, I interrupted you." He seemed to have made a hell of a lot of apologies in the past few minutes, but none of them for what he actually needed to make amends for. 

Eggsy blinked, as though it had slipped his mind also. Harry very much doubted it had. "Oh, right," he swallowed. "Thing is Harry," he began, hand reaching up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck before he cursed and flinched away, "ah fuck, forgot about that."

"Are you - "

"I'm fine." Eggsy sighed and slumped back a little where he sat, lifting his hat to scrub his fingers through his hair. "Look Harry, that thing back at the safehouse - "

Harry tensed, jaw tight, ready for Eggsy's rejection to be reiterated, and readying his apologetic and understanding response, despite the mere thought of it making him want to break things.

"I never wanted it to end okay?" Eggsy looked at him beseechingly. "I only said that shit because I knew you wanted a clean break or whatever, but honestly Harry, it broke my fucking heart to have to stand there and say I was alright with it. Because I'm fucking not," his chest heaved as he took a breath to break up his tirade. "And I'm sorry you feel differently, believe me, but I can't just sit here and let this mess between us get worse and worse, and - "

"What?" Harry blurted.

" - I've been trying to stay out of your way, but - " Eggsy stopped, belatedly registering that Harry had spoken. "What is it?"

"You - " Harry paused, confused, because surely he'd heard that wrong. "You thought I wanted a _clean break?"_

"Well yeah," Eggsy frowned, "didn't you?"

 _"God_ no," said Harry, stunned. "I thought it was you who wanted to end things as they were."

"What? What the flying fuck made you think that?" said Eggsy indignantly. 

"Eggsy, you stood across from me and said - and I quote - 'things had to end sometime.'"

"Well, that was only cos you looked like someone had shot your fucking dog or some shit - oh piss off, you know what I mean - at the fucking suggestion that we could keep... you know, and I just wanted to save you the trouble of trying to let me down gently."

"I never said that." Because that was of course the part he should be focusing on, and not the too good to be true notion that Eggsy had never wanted things to end either.

"Well no," Eggsy squirmed in his seat, and glanced quickly to the floor, "not out loud. But your face said it all mate."

“I told you before,” he said absently, still trying to take it in, “if we’re shagging, I will not tolerate you calling me ‘mate…’” Bloody hell. It was rather a fine mess they'd gotten themselves into, an epic misunderstanding of Austen proportions, but there would be time to iron out the messy details later. For now, there was one thing only that must be made clear. "I didn't want it to end either." 

"What?" Eggsy looked up from his uncomfortable examination of the floor, face pink. "Then why didn't you - You mean all this time you - fucking hell."

Words seemed to fail him, and before Harry could even blink, Eggsy was across the shuttle and in his lap, pressing hard, messy kisses to his dry lips. He smelt of antiseptic. 

"Eggsy - "

"You wanker," Eggsy ground out between kisses, "I thought - you didn't - want me."

"An argument could be made for that being the other way around, you know," said Harry, when Eggsy gave him a moment to breathe. 

"We can argue about it all you want later, yeah," said Eggsy, and Harry was sure they would, "but for now just shut up and kiss me back, you twat."

He did so, whole-heartedly, attempting to make up for every aborted apology, every broken glance, every lonely and miserable fucking minute since the two of them had embarked on their misguided separation. Eggsy gave as good as he got, biting at Harry's bottom lip between mumbled declarations of love and that Harry was a fucking idiot. He may have had a point.

"You vex me so," Harry spoke softly into Eggsy's neck as he stretched up to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to Harry's forehead, "in the most wonderful of ways."

"Sometimes you talk like you've been dragged out of the pages of some cringey novel," Eggsy said, warm fingers creeping under Harry's shirt collar, "it's fuckin' ridiculous." He was grinning.

Before Harry could retort, Eggsy's tongue was back in his mouth, hands running over his shoulders, his chest, every inch of Harry he could reach. Harry let himself stop thinking, pushed back with his tongue, splayed his hands over Eggsy's arse and pulled him in as close as he could get. Eggsy's breath hitched at the sudden movement, before he smirked against Harry's lips, rolling his hips down, purposely slow. 

"You're filthy," Harry said, both impressed and longing. His darling boy was utterly depraved, and he wouldn't change him for the world.

"And you're a hypocrite," said Eggsy, and palmed him through his trousers. Any other day Harry might have chided him for his disrespect of the tailoring with his impatience. Not today. 

The two of them didn't even notice when the shuttle reached the manor, still snogging frantically and about ten seconds away from removing clothes. They didn't notice when the door slid open, Harry's hand up the back of Eggsy's shirt and Eggsy's fingers twisted up in Harry's tie. They didn't notice the two women standing waiting for them outside the shuttle, their conversation abruptly cut short at the sight of the two agents who'd been politely ignoring each other for weeks now attempting to crawl down each other's throats. 

"Galahad," said one voice, warm with amusement, "Gawain. Nice of you to join us."

They broke apart, slightly guilty, and looked up to where Roxy and Flora, Agent Geraint, were standing, twin expressions of delight and exasperation of their faces.

"About time," said Roxy, before striding off, and Harry had the distinct impression she wasn't only referring to their less than punctual arrival. 

~

"Harry, would you get the fuck in here please."

"I'm coming, keep your knickers on."

"Funny, that's usually the exact opposite of what you want."

"Smart arse."

"Seriously, hurry the fuck up."

"Alright Eggsy, I'm - _Jesus fucking Christ_ that's cold."

Eggsy didn't bother to hold back his laughter as Harry waded in to join him in the sea. The cool water was jewel-bright and still, calmly flickering and catching the sun as it lapped around Harry's thighs. The beach itself was thankfully deserted - although Harry had still insisted they wear swimwear, the spoilsport - craggy rocks and smooth pebbles dry and sun-warmed, scattered with the odd curious seagull who'd come to see if they had anything worth nicking.  
It was several months after their first eventful visit, and Eggsy had persuaded Harry that the two of them should drive back down to Tintagel, so he could finally get his swim in the sea while the waters were warmer. Only slightly mind, it was still fucking England, summertime or not. 

"It's really fucking cold."

"Yeah, yeah," Eggsy grinned and flicked water at him, "c'mere and I'll warm you up."

Harry continued to grumble about the temperature as he swam closer, although they both knew full well he could easily put up with worse, and it was mainly just for Eggsy's amusement.

"I don't know how you persuade me into these things," Harry said as he drew level, wet hair curling over his forehead. 

"Oh really?" Eggsy raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was like this." Treading water, he put his hand on the back of Harry's neck, pulling himself closer, tasting the saltwater on both of their lips as he kissed him. Harry's hands crept around his waist, soft and strange under the water as his fingertips pressed into cold skin. It couldn't last long, what with both of them trying to stay afloat out of their depth, the ebb of the water nudging them to and fro. 

"That's not true," Harry sniffed, "you have many excellent and highly persuasive qualities."

"I can't argue with that," Eggsy said, his face starting to prickle with the salt and the heat of the afternoon sun. "Race you back to the beach, old man."

"What do I get if I win?"

"Me." Eggsy darted off through the water, ready for the endless list of dirty tricks Harry would no doubt pull to ensure his prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I think I lost it a bit towards the end, I actually might go over it again in the morning and make a change or two, but thanks for sticking with me you guys <3


End file.
